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Class F1615 

Rnnk > F -4 

I 85"£ 


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{ 


THE 


DIETETICS 


OF 


At a 

HS6*? 


THE SOUL. 


/ 

ERNEST von FEUOHTERSLEBEN, M.D. 


VALERE AUDE! 


lEuitetr from tf)C Sebentf) lEtation. 



LONDON: 

JOHN CHURCHILL, PRINCES STREET, SOHO. 


MDCCCLII. 










-*nq o,t 7tcj«oooii 11 jrf'giJOiij Jon r-cri *ia/ii>3 3fl r l 

• - 

oi baxfts'iq flsdol^V*tafoii9 r tf liorrivr^ oo#£t<nq tiurb' 

ai ts attorn 'Uilugsiv ban ? i‘>jJrra#b. od.t iift—»- 

*?» i 




EDITOR’S PREFACE. 


The Editor has not thought it necessary to pre- 
♦ sent the English reader with translations of the 
short prefaces which Feuchtersleben prefixed to 
the seven editions through which this popular 
little book has already passed in Germany. 
This much, however, may be selected from them: 
—that the desultory and irregular manner in 
which the author has treated his subject is mainly 
owing to his having been unwilling to repeat 
what had been already said, and well said, by 
others ; and that he does not profess to teach 
morality in the wide sense of the word, how¬ 
ever closely some may think it relates to self- 



VI 


editor's preface. 


control. In short, he offers his book as a mere 
contribution to practical Moral Philosophy, the 
originality and usefulness of which may excuse 
its incomplete and fragmentary character. 

As regards the Editor, while he ventures to 
hope that his task has been so executed as to 
present the English public with an accurate and 
readable version of the original, he feels impelled 
to add a word or two in deference to the perhaps 
laudable scruples with which some may at first 
regard a work having for its title—a literal 
translation of the original — “ The Dietetics 
of the Soul/’ 

He trusts it is unnecessary to say that the 
Christian will find in this book nothing con¬ 
tradictory to, or incompatible with, any part of 
his faith. 

The word “ Soul” in the title might, in the 
estimation of some, perhaps, have been better 


editor's preface. 


vii 

replaced by that of “Mind." But, to say 
nothing of the obligation which an Editor lies 
under, to translate his Author as literally as 
possible ; and without entering into long meta¬ 
physical disquisitions, he at once confesses that 
he gives a decided preference to the word 
“ Soul." Etymological derivation, and the 
authority of some of the greatest Philosophers, 
concur in regarding it as the best, and indeed 
the only term our language offers for that 
individual living essence which includes and 
contains within itself, rather than is the sum 
of, all our intellectual power. Indeed, the 
limited import of the word “ Mind," renders it 
almost a misfortune that it should, through 
fashion, have been so generally adopted. For 
the almost superstitious reverence with which 
many regard “ Soul" as the name of that im¬ 
mortal principle which is the object of all 


editor's preface. 


viii 

religious culture, often makes them, as it were, 
eager to refer the internal phenomena of which 
they are conscious, to any hut their true seat and 
source. 

However this may be, still less objection can 
lie to the term “ Dietetics" as applied to the 
Soul. There are clearly materials of internal 
life, as indispensable to the soul as food is to 
the body ; so that these two undeniable propo¬ 
sitions suffice to justify the use of the word. 
The analogy is so happy that the Editor cannot 
help pushing it a little further, and adding, 
with all reverence, that to diet minor ailments 
of the Soul, is not to pretend to a knowledge of 
its more serious diseases, far less to encroach 
upon the province of Religion. 

On the whole there is perhaps little risk of 
this treatise being misunderstood or condemned 
by those who read it aright. And even did it 


editor's preface. 


IX 


profess to be, what it expressly disclaims, a work 
on morality, the noble lines of Milton might 
suffice to show that the most fervent and 
enthusiastic believer in Revelation need not 
scorn the assistance of those faculties which are 
inherent to man, as the gift of his Creator. 

“ Mortals that would follow me. 

Love virtue ; she alone is free : 

She will teach you how to climb 
Higher than the sphery chime. 

Or, if virtue feeble were, 

Heaven itself would stoop to her.” 

foiiiino ioirb& odd indi yqqj?d oa ai ygohmn odT 

London, July, 1852. 

aJnomiU loxiim doth pi indi t 33xi9i3vax lie diiw 
)* -gbal o oxxd n oi bnaiaiq oi ion ai JjjoB odd to 
dasoion oi Sr.-A ml t 89 a^oacb anonas oiom ?.ii 
dioigiloR lo 3 oniv ok j axfi noqu 
to i'.ii olxtil aqjBxhoq ai oia di afodw odd xtO 
boamabnoo to booda'iobnuaxm gniad aatijsa-ii aidi 
ii bib u‘v /3 jr.A idgii; ? bj?oi odw > odd yd 







CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I. INTRODUCTION.1 

II. THE IDEA—GENERAL ACTIONS OF THE MIND. 7 

III. BEAUTY—THE REFLECTION OF HEALTH . . 23 

IV. IMAGINATION .33 

V. WILL. — CHARACTER. —INDECISION. — ILL- 

HUMOUR.—DISTRACTION.53 

YI. UNDERSTANDING.—CULTURE.67 

VII, TEMPERAMENTS.—PASSIONS.64 

YIII. THE AFFECTIONS.98 

IX. OSCILLATION.198 

X. HYPOCHONDRIASIS.124 

XI. NATURE.—TRUTH.139 

XII. RESUME.H9 

XIII. PASSAGES FROM A DIARY.161 
















































































































































INTRODUCTION. 


We become popular by affecting to be less intellectual than 
we really are.—B ulwer. 

We live in stormy and unsettled times. Hence 
we may confer a benefit, not only on ourselves, 
but on others, by diverting attention from the 
exciting circumstances of the present day—from 
the disheartening eccentricities of a literature 
which meanders in a thousand frivolous direc¬ 
tions—to the calm regions where the inner man, 
self-examined, submits himself to moral treat¬ 
ment. Here our connexion with things, our 
object, our duty, become clear; and, while we 
quietly separate ourselves from a world which 
is unable to assure us of anything, we feel that 
the joy we thought lost again returns, and that 
a second innocence spreads its clear and tran- 


2 


INTRODUCTION. 


quillizing light over human existence. The child 
may amuse himself with childish rhymes. Man 
should find his recreation in reflecting on his 
relation to the things of this life. To all has 
this power been vouchsafed; by all should it 
be exercised. 

“ Our authors/' says the Baron von Sternberg, 
“ no longer write in their own chambers, but in 
the open market-place. Hence we find so 
much noise, and dust, and highway reality in 
their works; but this is attained at the ex¬ 
pense of that profundity of thought and clear¬ 
ness of expression which distinguished the 
writings of our forefathers. Hence, likewise, 
the haste which now a-days hurries us onward. 
The philosopher, lest he remain behind in 
the race, publishes his ideas and the poet 
his fancies; each being content when he pro¬ 
duces a violent and instantaneous effect on 
the public. Yet who has time to grow old 
himself, or compose works which remain ever 
youthful V* 

The following pages have been written to 
correct .the tendencies just alluded to. They 
have been conceived in the spirit of repose—for 


INTRODUCTION. 


3 


self-cure and for self-meditation ; and it is thus 
they must be read, if the reader would derive 
any benefit from them. 

In weaving together ethics and dietetics, I 
have endeavoured to give a practical demon¬ 
stration of the power which the mind exercises 
over the body. “Physicians," people say, 
“are strongly opposed to all attempts to make 
their art popular—to all self-study of our own 
complaints. They fear, it would seem, lest the 
uncertainty and insufficiency of medical expe¬ 
rience should cause us to lose all confidence in 
their knowledge. It is their interest to keep us in 
the dark." So reasons the public, and a modern 
professional writer is of the same opinion. But 
even admitting all this, is it to our advantage 
alone so to act? If confidence in your medical 
attendant has contributed to your cure, are you 
less cured than if iron or bark had effected your 
recovery ? Is not Faith a powerful agent ? Are 
we deceived when we find that it renders us as 
much service as the physician himself ? Shall we 
be forbidden to attain the knowledge of acting 
for ourselves, or to direct the art of self-decep¬ 
tion to any useful end, when we know that 
B 2 


I 


INTRODUCTION. 


it works such wonders. It is the object of the 
following pages to communicate whatever may¬ 
be learned of this act of the mind. The prac¬ 
tical application must be left to the individual 
reader. 

I have aimed at popularity in the best sense 
of that term. The truly popular writer never 
sinks into the vulgar crowd. He rather raises 
the masses by bringing the highest subjects 
within their comprehension, making them, with¬ 
out a show of erudition, easily understood ; and 
by elevating ordinary material knowledge to the 
true purposes of education by his practical me¬ 
thod and vivid illustrations, he co-operates with 
Providence itself. Labouring at the great work 
of humanity he first matures the intelligence of a 
select few, from whom he then spreads it over 
the whole earth—just as the streak of day above 
the mountain-tops gradually illuminates the 
valleys and the plains. 

The frequent quotation of the important 
words used by truly great men is intended to 
show how greatly both theory and experience 
have always flowed from one and the same con¬ 
viction—how strongly the most diverse results 


INTRODUCTION. 


5 


coerce belief—and that my opinions are neither 
singular nor new. But, alas! many things 
are still new; and we may safely affirm that 
of all arts none is so neglected by man as 
the one I here inculcate—the art of self-con¬ 
trol. Yet is it the first and the last of his 
moral duties. 

Nothing will contribute more effectually to 
the practical application of the precepts which 
I here enforce, than the faithful study of a 
diary, composed of short, but true and fruit¬ 
ful fragments. It is an acute and correct 
remark, that what we commonly take for 
genius is nothing but a constant communion 
with oneself. The paragraphs which con¬ 
clude this work (p. 161 ) are taken from such a 
diary. 

At the present day much stress is laid on 
this species of erudition. Every opinion we 
offer must bear the stamp of authority. Albums 
are formed with extracts from celebrated writers, 
the autographs of well-known persons are col¬ 
lected ; and to render a work attractive it must 
contain numerous citations. Hence, I have 
extracted passages from several authors; though 


6 


INTRODUCTION. 


I doubt if their well-meant reflections will suc¬ 
ceed in restoring to health a single hypochon¬ 
driac. Suffice it if they do not render hypo¬ 
chondriacal those who are not so. 


II. 


THE IDEA — GENERAL ACTIONS OF THE MIND. 


Mind is united to matter, but matter is also united 
to mind. 

Under the term “ Dietetics of the Soul” I would 
comprehend a knowledge of those means by 
which the soul is preserved in a state of health. 
This knowledge constitutes morality; and al¬ 
though all the mental efforts of man tend to¬ 
wards the same great aim of cultivating and 
fostering his mental sense—the bloom of his 
life, the object of his existence—yet I would 
here especially consider that power of the mind 
by which it is enabled to avert the ills that 
threaten the body—a power the reality of which 
has hardly ever been denied; whose wonders 
have frequently excited astonishment; whose 
laws are rarely investigated ; and, whose agency 
is still more rarely brought to bear on practical 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


life. Yet every force derived from the spring' 
of mental life may be cultivated by the hand 
of man until it becomes an art. Art is culti¬ 
vated ability; and if man is advanced so far as 
to convert even life itself into an art, why 
should he not do the same for health, which is 
the life of his life ? This is “ the Dietetics of 
the Soul”—the Soul of dietetics, as one of my 
commentators has aptly designated it—of which 
I propose to treat—not in a complete essay, 
but in fragmentary remarks. 

Kant examined “ the power of the mind to 
master morbid feelings by the mere force of 
resolution.” I would go still further than this ; 
and show not only how the feelings, but the 
access of disease itself may be controlled. The 
body is frequently the only channel through 
which we can assist the mind; but why may 
we not sometimes influence the former through 
the latter? It may be that neither medical 
men nor the public—and here each man should 
be his own physician—have bestowed on this 
matter the attention which it merits. 

“ Happy duality of human nature,” exclaims 
an accomplished authoress, “ thou alone pre- 
servest the unity of our being ; the animal sup- 


OF THE MIND. 


9 


ports the spirit, the spirit the animal; and thus 
alone man exists.” 

My object in the present work is to explain 
how this spiritual portion of man may be pro¬ 
tected from disease. I do not offer any definite 
or conclusive theory. This it were too much to 
expect on a subject, which, like all mental—I 
might add vital phenomena—eludes our grasp 
as often as we flatter ourselves that we have it 
secured. The thanks of my readers must rather 
be due to me for having sacrificed the empty 
gratification of building up a system to the 
reproach of rhapsodism, which may possibly be 
offered to my sketches. 

There are circumstances under which we gain 
but little by endeavouring to gain too much. 
Physiognomy may, perhaps, be included under 
this head; and I shall, therefore, following the 
example of Lavater in physiognomy, content 
myself with fragmentary remarks on the die¬ 
tetics of the soul. But to avoid the error of 
that learned Royal Society, which disputed 
whether a cup of water together with the fish 
in it, did not weigh heavier than the same cup 
of water without the fish, neglecting previously 
to ascertain whether such were actually the fact 


10 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


—to avoid this error I shall pause for a moment 
on that, before I enter on the labyrinth of 
how, it is. The that abides in us amidst all 
the varied metamorphoses of life; while the how 
is ever fleeing before us. As long as we abide with 
the former all is bright and smooth, all around 
clear as itself; but woe to the evil arts of the 
latter which lead and mislead, and are at once 
allied to the good and the evil within us. The 
man who inquires into Nature should above all 
be on his guard against its demoniacal influence. 
It is not my object 

To seek, by ways obscure. 

The I that racks the unappeased mind. 

The sound and practical thinker must regard 
as absurd those disquisitions on the difference— 
nay, the very existence—of mind and body, in 
which the older philosophers took so much de¬ 
light. For the truth of this I would appeal to 
the healthy-toned feeling of every ingenuous 
person. Let him who doubts whether he has a 
Soul lay this book aside. Let him who refers to 
the body all the effects described by me as facts 
of experience, interpret my words to mean “ a 
power exercised over all other parts of the body 


OF THE MIND. 


11 


by that portion of it to which the functions 
called mental belong.” However distorted such 
a view of the case may be, the fundamental 
fact remains the same ; the maxims derived from 
it lose nothing of their applicability; and in the 
present work we have only to deal with the 
fruitful Truth. 

I know no better illustration of this funda¬ 
mental fact than the instance of a man just 
awaking from sleep. Here, to take the same 
ground as our opponents, that is in a state of 
bondage which is destined to release the rest; 
yet it has power enough to free itself, and this 
power may be increased by practice. There is, 
indeed, a state of bondage where reaction, alas, 
is no longer possible. I allude to the night 
of*the mind ; but there is a milder degree—a 
twilight—in which the effects of impulse may be 
made available; and it is to this state that my 
propositions apply. There is, again, another 
intermediate degree—a stage of actual disease of 
the soul—where the will still acts—without it a 
cure were impossible ;—but the impulse is given 
by the consciousness of others, not by our own. 

In tracing these conditions to their origin, 
some may say that we descend deeper than 


12 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


prudence warrants : yet I venture to hope that 
some light may be thrown on my subject, and 
a solution obtained without the aid of casuistry, 
or a flight into the cloudy regions of meta¬ 
physics. 

In a perfectly unconstrained state, man feels 
and lives like an unconscious unit; hut con¬ 
sciousness destroys this spiritual innocence, and 
divides his life. The facts of consciousness, which 
are only recognised by the aid of inward reflec¬ 
tion or self-analysis, point to a principle different 
from those derived through perception. This 
principle we denominate mind; but it must not 
be forgotten that the word “ mind ** merely 
represents an abstraction; for in this world 
mind only appears to us through its manifesta¬ 
tions in man—that is to say, in corporeal beings. 
When thus associated with matter, we term it, 
in ordinary language, the Soul; and the sub¬ 
stance united with the Soul we denominate the 
body. We cannot, assuredly, require proofs 
of the Soul’s acting on the body; since we can 
only apprehend each in the unity of its manifes¬ 
tations, and it requires the highest order of 
cultivated intellect to form any clear idea of 
their difference. It is still more futile to make 


OF THE MIND. 


13 


any attempt to explain the manner in which 
mind and body are united together; because 
thought itself is an unit, and the thought which 
comprehends cannot comprehend itself. The 
immediate cannot mediate, even as the right 
hand, which lays hold of the left, cannot seize 
itself. In the act of thought the element of 
space accompanies that of time ; and the acts 
of laughing or crying may be adduced as the 
proximate symbols of this connexion between 
mind and body. Medical men have observed 
that the nervous function forms the proximate 
link in the chain of this combined action. Any 
farther discussion on this point were useless. 
I have defined the idea, and shall not further 
pursue it. 

We are also unable to enter into any exami¬ 
nation of the causes which determine illness or 
recovery. Nor is it necessary. 

It is enough to know that all disease arises 
from an internal, or from an external influence. 
Under the former head are included original 
germs of disease ; for the development of which, 
however, some external influence is required. 
Under the latter, are comprehended all external 
agents which act injuriously on life; yet, here 


14 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


again, we are compelled to admit some original 
susceptibility arising from weakness. 

Diseases of internal origin are generally classed 
under the head of hereditary or constitutional; 
but there are many other conditions which have 
not hitherto been investigated with sufficient 
attention, and which might be regarded rather 
as errors of development than as true diseases. 
This hint may induce the reflecting physician to 
consider whether Malfatti's ideas relative to the 
connexion between disease with the evolution 
of life, may not be turned to some practical 
account. 

Has the mind no controlling power over the 
conditions here alluded to ? I do not, of course, 
refer to such rules as the physician is accus¬ 
tomed to lay down for the improvement of the 
capacity, or the avoidance of corresponding in¬ 
jurious influences. These rules emanate from 
mind ; but not from the mind of the subject who 
suffers. Philosophers and philosophical poets 
take great pains to show us how undue tenden¬ 
cies may be regulated or suppressed; and may 
not the same thing be practicable within our 
province ? 

How do we obtain the best general idea of a 


OF THE MIND. 


15 


man’s capacity as regards his health? By 
studying his temperament , a word which we 
now use in its vulgar sense, not in the one at¬ 
tached to it by the schools. Man is a whole 
made up of diversified parts ; and the most acute 
observer of Nature can go no further than de¬ 
clare that “ temperament is the tempering and 
fitting of the elements to an individual life/'’ 

“ Each individual,” says Herder, “ bears with 
him in his bodily form and mental capacity that 
symmetry which he is ultimately to attain 
through self-development. It pervades every 
mode of human existence—from that which 
barely sustains life, to the finest form of 
the Greek demigod. By failings and errors, 
through destiny and practice, each mortal seeks 
to attain this symmetry of his powers; for therein 
lies the fullest enjoyment of his existence”— 
and I would add, the condition of his health. 
And shall not man, the only being in the uni¬ 
verse capable of self-contemplation, aim at this, 
his own idea of himself ? 

Shall not he, whom Protagoras has called “the 
measure of the universe,” also constitute his 
own estimate ? Assuredly, the man who turns 
from the turmoil of life to reflect on himself 


16 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


will not deny this influence of mind now under 
consideration ; but will admit that we can thus 
obtain a power over ourselves, and consequently 
over disease, whenever it springs from our own 
nature. I have so far treated of that; the suc¬ 
ceeding chapters will chiefly form a commentary 
on the how. 

Many may think it wonderful, and by no 
means certain, that the mind should enjoy a con¬ 
trolling power beyond its immediate sphere ; as 
if the world in which we live and move were 
nothing but the web of our existence. And yet, 
what else is it to us ? 

To the full-grown man it appears mature; 
to the child, childish ; to the joyful, joyous; to 
the veiled eye, cloudy. It acts upon us according 
as we receive it. The happiness or misery of 
the individual depends on the deeply-marked 
impressions or conceptions of his own mind. Is 
it impossible to subject these impressions to 
control, or to obtain clearness of mental vision ? 
We employ efforts enough to render it obscure. 
The mid fury of the storm, which drenched 
Lear's companion to the skin, touched not the 
unhappy man himself, because an internal 


OF THE MIND. 


17 


tempest of passion deadened the senses to all 
external impressions. 

Yes, the most convincing proof of the strength 
of mind is—strange to say—to be found in its 
impotency. Every one knows that the unfortunate 
persons, whose minds are buried in the night of 
insanity, remain exempt from many diseases 
which attack others around them; their minds 
are concentrated on some delusion—their at¬ 
tention diverted from bodily suffering; and 
thus they are rendered insensible to external 
influences. And shall not a cultivated, well- 
directed volition have as much—nay greater— 
power than furious anger, or the horrible energy 
of the insane? A British writer,* describing 
the effects of a foggy, smoky climate on the 
health of his countrymen, makes, from personal 
observation, the following remarks:— 

“ In the mean time it remains undecided 
whether many of the diseases attributed to the 
atmosphere of our capital may not arise from 
die habits of the people. As animal heat is 
lut slightly influenced by any alterations of 
itmospheric temperature, so likewise the human 


Medical Reports, 1830. 
C 



18 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


mind possesses an innate force of resistance 
which, when roused to activity, is generally able 
to counterbalance the injurious influence of ex¬ 
ternal agents. Physicians record instances of 
women who were able to waltz half the night 
with a favourite partner, though at the very 
time they were, unless excited, too feeble to 
cross a room. Thus the favourite stimulus 
awakes the living fibre. Hence, on the other 
hand, the idle and fashionable suffer more 
than others from the atmosphere of London. 
Persons whose attention and faculties are in 
a constant state of activity take no heed of 
the barometer. It is, indeed, well known that 
the dark days of November are the season of 
melancholy and suicide ; but the gloom of the 
atmosphere cannot overcast the brightness of an 
unclouded spirit. The morbid excitement of 
the insane often withdraws them from the 
influence of atmospheric changes ; and it is the 
thoughts with which man tortures himself—the 
associations which his imagination links to the 
autumnal fall of the leaf, that oppress and over¬ 
power him. 

Although the anxieties of the hypochondriac 
rise and fall with the changes of the weather, 


OF THE MIND. 


19 


his frame of mind, together with the effects re¬ 
sulting therefrom, are ultimately determined by 
his mental calibre. The hypochondriac is always 
—if only for the time—a weak-minded man ; 
and if he would only comprehend this, and 
set himself, in a determined manner, to work 
for his own improvement, he would prove a 
better physician than any other for the cure 
of his disease.” 

What medical man does not feel that he could 
prove the truth of these observations by a 
number of examples even from limited expe¬ 
rience ? Do not cases of the kind now alluded 
to come constantly under treatment, especially 
in large towns? Does not the atmosphere which 
enshrouds them seem to consist of the passions, 
thoughts, or cares of the inhabitants ? Is not 
suicide (whatever sympathy we may feel for a 
Werther) the melancholy heritage of morbidly 
sensitive natures—of feeble dispositions—which 
are incapable of contending with the hardness 
and asperity of actual life. The fate of Heinrich 
von Kleist here suggests itself; and will not 
every physician testify from his own experience 
that nothing but the conscientious fulfilment of 
his duties has, on many occasions, been able to 
c 2 


20 


GENERAL ACTIONS 


dispel the dark clouds which obscured his social 
and bodily existence ? Nay, has he not felt that 
this very activity protected him from the dangers 
connected with the prosecution of his profession 
—that the wounds inflicted by duty bear with 
them a healing balm ? “I was unavoidably 
exposed to the contagion of putrid fever/' says 
Goethe (whom I here cite, as in his case the 
strong impulse of professional duty was wanting, 
and the power of volition, therefore, the more 
strongly exemplified), “ and I warded off the 
disease by a simple act of the will. The power 
of moral volition in such cases is incredible. It 
seems to pervade the whole body, and communi¬ 
cate a degree of energy which enables us to repel 
all injurious influences. Fear is a state of weak¬ 
ness during which we are easily conquered by 
an enemy." 

Every opinion of Goethe's on mental life 
is of peculiar value,—vital, and practical, and 
unlike the beautiful self-delusions of so many 
other writers. What then is life but that force 
of the individual which maintains itself; which 
subjects all opposing influences to an internal 
law; which assimilates foreign elements; and 
which, thus engaged in constant movement, is 


OF THE MIND. 


21 


ever changing its condition, but never its being ? 
Must not such a force of corporeal nature find 
its ablest support in that spiritual nature of 
which it forms the true characteristic—the chief 
and main agent? Self-activity is the con¬ 
dition of self-preservation ; mental development 
is the condition of self-activity. The greater the 
power of thought in any individual, the greater 
is his power of spontaneous action ; and the 
greater the latter the more completely will he 
live and be. A thousand influences lie in wait 
to ensnare mortal man. The whole world is an 
influence. But the strongest of all is individual 
character. Character makes the man; for as all 
beings in nature are merely manifestations of 
force, man can boast of nothing as his own except 
the energy which he displays. If unable to 
arouse this energy, let him assume it; let him 
place himself by a sudden effort in circum¬ 
stances where he must will. It is an old and 
true saying, “that men seldom die upon a jour¬ 
ney, or during their honeymoon/' 

“ Seldom," says the reflecting Bulwer, “ nay, 
scarcely ever, would disease cling incurably to 
us in the season of youth, if we did not our¬ 
selves believe in it and foster it. We see men 


22 GENERAL ACTIONS OF THE MIND. 


of the frailest constitutions who have no time to 
be ill amidst the constant activity of professional 
life. Let them be idle—let them reflect—and 
they die. Bust wears away the steel which re¬ 
mains bright while it is used; and if all were 
alike vain—if activity and indolence engendered 
the same evils, it must still be admitted that 
the evil is more easily avoided in the former, 
while at the same time it affords us a nobler 
solace/' 

But I must not allow myself to borrow too 
much from this admirable author, with whom 
I so fully agree. My object has only been to 
show how powerfully mental activity assists in 
counteracting morbid influences; and I fear that 
I have said rather too much than too little on 
the subject. 


III. 


BEAUTY THE REFLECTION OF HEALTH. 


Consecrate thyself and proclaim that Nature alone is vener¬ 
able, health alone lovely.—F. A. Schlegel. 


In the preceding fragmentary remarks on mental 
dietetics, my object has been to claim for the spirit 
of man a power whereby he may resist external 
influences. I had intended going further, and 
passing from a power of simple resistance to one 
of action. Learned mystics have spoken of the 
profound influences of the divinely-conferred 
will, as of sins against our mother-earth. They 
have even ventured to assert, that as our bodies 
are the instruments designed for the cultivation 
and regeneration of the world, the control of the 
former includes the control of the latter. I was, 
however, on the point of renouncing my purpose 
through fear of being considered too bold in my 
conclusions, when chance threw in my way a 
work of great merit, in which, to my surprise, I 
met with several reflections on the abstruse points 


24 


BEAUTY THE KEFLECTION 


we are now considering. Here I found my own 
opinions expressed much more boldly than I 
should have ventured to state them. But why 
not quote the author s words ? 

“ Is it unreasonable to assume that the action 
of mind and body on each other is, like every 
other perfect action, reciprocal? May we not 
believe that the mind, which is an excessively 
penetrating agent, exerts a certain influence on 
the external world, and has the power of im¬ 
pregnating the earth, whenever its manifestations 
are intensely active? If we follow a logical 
mode of reasoning, and do not halt half way, we 
are forced to admit this opinion. 

“ At present, we can only venture to advance 
hypothetically that a good man makes the air 
and earth around him healthy; while a bad 
man and a bad deed infest the scene of their 
action, causing the virtuous to shudder, and 
the weak to incline towards evil, when they 
approach the spot. Such ideas may seem quaint 
and superstitious at the present day; but after 
the lapse of another century, they may, perhaps, 
be regarded as truisms. Every one knows the 
popular belief respecting the spot on which a 
murder has been committed. Mow, popular 


OF HEALTH 


25 


belief furnishes a rich and important source 
of knowledge respecting natural phenomena, 
because it results from the united experience of 
many, not from the reflections of a few. It is 
to be regretted that we do not know whether 
Dr. Haine of Berlin, whose diagnostic powers 
rendered him so celebrated, and who could dis¬ 
tinguish the various eruptions of the skin by 
their odour alone, may not have been able to 
discover moral peculiarities by the same faculty/' 
Leaving my readers to appreciate this remark¬ 
able fragment as they please, I return to the sub¬ 
ject before me. Probability becomes certainty, 
when we have brought the incredible within the 
range of the probable. Some of my readers 
may, perchance, be females, and for them I 
extract the following passage:— 

“ Persons like ourselves," says an intellectual 
authoress, “ can only become healthy, by feeling 
the greatest disgust at illness, and placing 
implicit reliance on the axiom, ‘ that health is 
most lovely and loveable/ " 

Let us then adopt this sentiment with fervour, 
while we consider that the form of man is the 
expression of his well-being. 

In one of the most beautiful parts of his phy- 


26 


BEAUTY THE REFLECTION 


siognomical fragments, Lavater has attempted 
to show that a visible harmony between moral 
and corporeal beauty, and between moral and 
corporeal ugliness is as certain as that Divine 
Wisdom has appointed to every being a deter¬ 
minate form. It is almost unnecessary to men¬ 
tion that the beauty here meant is not a mere 
evanescent charm, but an all-penetrating spirit, 
unstained by the irrevocable impress of fol¬ 
lies or passions. It is the province of the 
physiognomist to prove, what indeed few can 
deny, that our organism is developed ac¬ 
cording to a preordained form; and that the 
sequence with which Nature proceeds is identi¬ 
cal with that which establishes the law of 
thought. Hence, by going a little further, we 
are prepared to admit, that if the mind possess 
a corporeally-formative power, such power may 
manifest itself in beauty as well as in health. 
The movements of our voluntary muscles are 
regulated by those habits of feeling and willing 
which constitute character; and hence the features 
of the face, which are the external indications 
of human beauty or its opposite, are regulated 
by the same principle. Every oft-repeated mo¬ 
tion of the countenance, the smile or the tear, 


OF HEALTH. 


27 


the writhing of pain, the sneer of mockery, the 
scowl of anger, each leaves behind it a track in 
which it works again and again until a perma¬ 
nent mark is established in the muscles and 
cellular tissue of the face. These external mani¬ 
festations cannot continue long without leaving 
their traces in the subjacent and more solid 
structures. How far this action may be ca¬ 
pable of modifying the form of the skull itself, 
is a question of some importance in a cranio- 
logical point of view; the more so, indeed, that 
our attention has been hitherto almost ex¬ 
clusively directed to the operation of internal 
causes. 

The faces of passionate men are more deeply 
wrinkled when they arrive at old age than 
the countenances of tranquil persons; and the 
reason is manifest. In the former the skin 
of the face has been frequently contracted by 
violent gestures, which have left behind them 
deep traces of their existence. But other organs 
and systems of the body furnish evidence of 
the same influences. When an individual has 
enjoyed a long life, free from care, breathing 
tranquilly from a well developed chest, the 
cavity of the latter becomes enlarged, and the 


28 


BEAUTY THE REFLECTION 


important organs contained in it feel the bene¬ 
ficial effects. On the contrary, let the circula¬ 
tion of the blood be impeded or rendered languid 
by mental depression, and the effects are inva¬ 
riably manifested in disturbance of the secretions, 
imperfect nutrition, &c. 

Such impressions influence the future con¬ 
dition of the individual the more permanently 
and quickly in proportion to the frequency, 
energy, and the early period of life at which 
they may be brought into play. The human 
organism is a vital circle, each point of which 
acts reciprocally on every other point. The 
influence expressed by the pallid and deeply 
wrinkled face, likewise manifests itself in the low 
voice, the tottering gait, the timid hand-writing, 
the vacillating disposition, the susceptibility to 
atmospheric changes, and the gradual but certain 
advance of insidious disease. The seed which 
the mind has sown may act for the destruction 
of the body as well as for its preservation 
and cure. Beauty itself is, to a certain degree, 
nothing but a symptom of health. Harmony of 
function will produce harmonious accordance in 
the products of functional acts; and if virtue 
embellish, while vice disfigures, who shall deny 


OF HEALTH. 


29 


that virtue may preserve health, and vice induce 
disease ? 

Nature exercises a secret jurisdiction over us. 
Though slow and long-suffering, her decrees are 
inevitable. She takes cognizance of every error 
which escapes the eye of man, and is unamen¬ 
able to his senses. The influence of her power 
—eternal, like all that flows from the spring of 
primitive force—descends from generation to 
generation, and points to the sins of the fore¬ 
father as the cause of the suffering over which 
the descendant broods in secret. 

The old and sad proverb, “ He who did the 
deed must pay the damage,” is true in the phy¬ 
sical, as well as in the moral world. The natural 
philosopher who loves his fellow man should 
bestir himself to refute the doctrines of the mys¬ 
tic school relative to abortions and the regenera¬ 
tion of our race. Much progress has been already 
made, and the opinion is daily gaining ground, 
that not only the feebleness but the actual dis¬ 
eases of the present generation depend more on 
our moral than on our physical condition; and that 
they cannot be prevented by the bracing system 
or the hardening experiments of a Rousseau 
or a Salzmann—by exposure or cold baths. To 


30 


BEAUTY THE REFLECTION 


guard against them, or, if God will, to extirpate 
them, requires a higher culture, and that too of 
a totally different kind; and here the first step 
must begin with ourselves. 

Medical men have been accused, and I fear with 
some justice, of considering mankind exclusively 
in a material point of view, as a coil of bones, 
muscles, and tissues, set in motion by the oxy¬ 
gen of the air acting on the blood. An oppor¬ 
tunity is here offered to us for the refutation of 
this notion; the physician indeed sees and pro¬ 
claims the advent of salvation from the same 
source as that to which the preacher and the 
moralist point. “Who is unable to perceive,” 
writes in his youth the beloved of our nation, 
“ that the conformation of mind which derives 
pleasure from every event, and dissolves every 
suffering in the fulness of the universe, must 
also be most advantageous to the workings of 
the machine ? This conformation is virtue.” 

Wherever beneficent Nature has assisted the 
efforts of moral cultivation, facilitating the 
higher development of the individual by a 
happy organization (and has not the existence 
of moral as well as artistic genius been long 


OF HEALTH. 


31 


admitted, for example, in Socrates, Marcus Au¬ 
relius, Howard, Penn?), there the manifesta¬ 
tions of harmonious existence will be more 
evident and more lovely than in cases where the 
painful struggles of the Soul can barely wring a 
few blossoms from the rude soil of bodily or¬ 
ganism. But all the more gloriously will those 
scattered rays of a higher light break forth as 
lightning from the depth of night, illuminating 
the outward form, as formerly the face of 
Socrates, and verifying the eternal truth of 
Apollonius — “ there is a bloom, even in 
wrinkles/' What, then, is beauty but the 
spirit glorifying its earthly tabernacle; and what 
is health but the beauty of its various functions ? 
Where the mind directs a well-tuned instru¬ 
ment we perceive not its glorious perfection 
from the facility with which it draws forth the 
harmony of virtue, and the effect appears to us 
natural; but when we know that it wrings 
harmonious accord from dissonance, then we 
deem its action miraculous. -An d as hidden 
beauty often bursts forth from the face of a 
good man in one great and solemn moment, so 
also may the beauteous treasure of health 


32 BEAUTY THE REFLECTION OF HEALTH. 

be won by a single bold resolution. “ Think 
not/' exlaims the inspired physiognomist, a to 
render man beautiful without making him 
better ” and think not, I would add from the 
deepest conviction, to maintain him in health, 
without first making him better ! 


IMAGINATION. 


Imagination is the Mercury of the human organism—the me¬ 
diator between all parts—the agent that renders man so 
good and so evil. —Heinse. 


Modern psychologists are accustomed to re¬ 
proach those of the older school with destroying 
the living unity of the human mind by their 
subdivisions of mental faculties into several higher 
and lower degrees; as, for example, reason, un¬ 
derstanding, imagination, memory, &c. The 
reproach is well founded, if we consider these 
faculties as particular entities acting in accord¬ 
ance to laws within themselves • for the human 
mind is a single, entire, indivisible power, and 
the only distinctions which it admits are in its 
modes of manifestation. These, indeed, may be 
distinguished in a clear and useful manner ; and 
as such a distinctive classification has always 
proved less injurious than a confused association, 


34 


IMAGINATION. 


we should thank the old school for having 
taught us to analyze man instead of regarding 
him as a wonder. While, then, we contemplate 
and admire the mental powers of mankind, we 
shall confine ourselves to a consideration of the 
different modes in which they manifest them¬ 
selves to us. 

However innumerable the radii which may be 
drawn from the centre of our innermost being 
to the circumference of infinity, there are yet three 
main directions from which all the others will 
be found to diverge; and these are the capacities 
of reflection, volition, and sensation—the latter 
of which is a combination of feeling and imagina¬ 
tion. These three faculties constitute the inner 
man—his whole being, and tendencies—that 
which ordinary language in its proneness to 
philosophise denominates “ the thought, poetry, 
and action of life" Thought is the food, feeling 
the vital air, volition the exercise of mental life. 
I shall now proceed to the successive considera¬ 
tion of this triple mode in which the mind exer¬ 
cises its influence over our bodily sufferings. 

If we admit the existence of several grades 
among the mental faculties, we must give to 
imagination the lowest place, to volition a middle 
one, and to reason the very highest. This, at 


IMAGINATION. 


35 


all events, is the order in which these faculties 
are developed. Imagination predominates in 
childhood, desire in youth, reason in manhood ; 
and this order of succession must of necessity 
occur, if it be true that Nature always proceeds 
from small things to great. Let us therefore 
take Nature for our guide, and commence, as she 
does, with imagination. Is not imagination the 
faculty which unites the material to the spiritual 
world ?— a wondrous, changeful, mysterious 
principle, we scarcely know whether appertaining 
most to the Soul, or to the body; whether it 
rules us, or we rule it. This, however, is certain, 
that it is peculiarly suited to act as the mediating 
agent between mind and body. When we care¬ 
fully examine the processes at work in our own 
minds, we discover that neither thought nor 
desire become directly corporeal in us ; but that 
both are invariably made manifest through the 
agency of imagination—a remark of great im¬ 
portance to the psychologist and the physician. 
Imagination is the mediatrix, the nurse, the 
mover of all the several parts of our spiritual 
organism. Without her, all our ideas stagnate, 
all our conceptions wither, all our perceptions 
become rough and sensual. Hence the ani¬ 
mating charm of dreams—those lovely children 
D 2 


36 


IMAGINATION. 


of fancy ; hence the efficient power of genius, 
of poetry, and of all things noble. “ Moreover/' 
to use the words of a comprehensive thinker, 
“ imagination is the most unexplained and per¬ 
haps the most inexplicable of all mental faculties; 
for as it appears to be connected with the whole 
structure of the body, but especially with the 
nervous system, as is proved by so many diseases, 
it seems to constitute not only the bond and 
basis of all the finer faculties of the soul, but 
the connecting link between mind and body— 
the germinating bud, as it were, of the whole 
sensual organism for the further use of the re¬ 
flective powers/’ 

Kant, the philosopher, jv, who was 

far less adapted than his great opponent already 
referred to, to sing a hymn in praise of this 

“ Goddess ever changing, ever new,” 

remarks that her motive power is much greater 
than that of any mechanical one. “ The man,” 
he was wont to say, “ who is thoroughly pene¬ 
trated with a sense of social enjoyment, will eat 
with much better appetite than he who has 
spent a couple of hours on horseback and 
" entertaining reading is a more healthy occu- 


IMAGINATION. 


37 


pation than bodily exercise/' In this sense, he 
regarded dreaming as an exercise during sleep, 
intended by Nature to maintain the organic 
machine in a state of vital activity. In the most 
reflective of all his works he goes further, and 
affirms that the enjoyment which we derive from 
refined society depends on increased peristaltic 
motion of the intestines ; and that the increase 
of health thus acquired is the true aim of tender 
sensations and intellectual thoughts. We may 
allow some latitude to the philosopher from 
whom we receive such excellent advice. Another 
thinker has aptly named the imagination “ the 
climate of the disposition/' All diseases of the 
mind have their origin—and what is called their 
seat—in the imagination. If their seat were 
really in the mind, they would be errors or vices, 
but not diseases ; and if in the body they would 
not be diseases of the mind. It is only in the 
point of contact between both—in that myste¬ 
rious twilight in which the shadow of the Soul's 
light is produced by the body, that this bug¬ 
bear of humanity reveals itself with an aping 
mockery, from which we turn aside with horror, 
and whose everlasting banishment is the true 
aim of mental dietetics. Imagination will ever 


38 


IMAGINATION. 


constitute a faculty which, deals with the unreal, 
and with which the germ of happiness or misery 
must ever he associated. Whenever imagina¬ 
tion predominates to an abnormal degree, we 
forget ourselves in waking dreams and have 
made the first step towards insanity. Does not 

“ The poet’s eye in a fine frenzy rolling,” 

call up, as if by an unhallowed charm, demons 
which it cannot banish unless its sight be 
steadfastly fixed on the eternal star of beauty ? 
But even in the ordinary conditions of our exist¬ 
ence, does not the imagination exercise upon us 
an incessant, though slowly-acting, influence ? 
Must we not seek in the imagination of the 
parents the sole, or at least a very influential, 
germ of the vital form of the future individual ? 
And if man may be so far called the child of 
imagination, has not this faculty a deep-seated 
origin within us ? It might even be said that it 
existed in us before we were, and still exists when 
we have almost ceased to be ; for its magic sway 
is most powerfully exercised in all those condi¬ 
tions in which free consciousness is controlled 
by the force of an obscure volition—in infancy 
—in sleep—in insanity—in that imaginative 


IMAGINATION. 


39 


period which is a blending of the three. What 
the surrounding world, with all its mighty in¬ 
fluences, is to the outer man, imagination—the 
inner world of images enclosing the nucleus of 
life—is to the inner man. How, then, can its 
rule and interference fail to determine health or 
disease ? “ I have often indulged, for hours to¬ 

gether, in fancies of all kinds/' says Lichtenberg ; 
“ and had it not been for this cure by imagina¬ 
tion, which I generally pursued during the 
ordinary season for drinking the waters, I should 
never have reached my present age." 

When I remarked in a former passage that 
imagination and perception combine together, I 
did not desire to evade a more accurate distinc¬ 
tion ; but to express that feeling and fancy are 
only the passive or active conditions of one and 
the same faculty. When under the sway of the 
imagination we also feel; we therefore feel what 
we imagine—the imagination occupying itself 
passively with those impressions which the 
external world presses on it under the form 
of perceptions. Those who are accustomed to 
reflect on their own condition will soon perceive 
that this is not a mere play upon words. We 
suffer when we turn the perceptive surface of 


40 


IMAGINATION. 


our being towards the external world, and we 
free ourselves from suffering when we oppose to 
it an active imagination. Here, as in all things, 
suffering and joy flow from a common source. 
We are all familiar with the fact that the imagi¬ 
nation exercises a curative influence over several 
morbid conditions; and if this be the case, why 
not admit that which can cure may likewise 
prevent; so that the influence which renders 
a disease fatal, may also be the means of in¬ 
ducing it ? 

How profound are the sufferings of those 
unhappy persons who allow their imaginations 
to become fixed upon some disease which 
threatens them, or from which they even ima¬ 
gine they already suffer! Sooner or later it is 
sure to attack them. 

The physiologist easily explains this fact by 
informing us that the constant transmission of 
a nervous current into any organ must at last be 
followed by change in the condition of its nu¬ 
trition, and consequently by disease. My readers 
are probably acquainted with the history of Boer- 
have's pupil. This young man, after having heard 
a course of lectures on the practice of medicine, 
gradually manifested all the morbid conditions 


IMAGINATION. 


41 


which his eloquent teacher depicted in such 
vivid colours ; and after going through fevers and 
inflammations in the winter, and nervous dis¬ 
orders in the summer, was finally compelled 
to abandon a profession, the study of which had 
brought him to the brink of the grave. In the 
month of September, 1824, a waiter read in one 
of the newspapers an account of the death of a 
man named James Drew, from the bite of a mad 
dog. He was instantly seized with hydro¬ 
phobia, and conveyed to Guy's Hospital, where 
he died ( Britannia , 1825). 

Many unfortunate debauchees, tortured by 
remorse for their dissolute and wasted youth, 
and living in terror of its possible consequences, 
are so oppressed by the constant image of the 
evils which seem to threaten them, that they 
sink at length into the condition denominated 
by Weikard “tabes imaginaria, ” and which 
consists in a distressing compound of appre¬ 
hension and actual suffering. Every practising 
physician, especially in this age of sickly 
over-refinement, must have observed similar 
phenomena in himself or his patients. Medical 
students while attending lectures on diseases of 
the eye, are often troubled with “museae voli- 


42 


IMAGINATION. 


tantes,” and find their vision really impaired 
while their mind is dwelling on the horrors of 
amaurosis. Or let us take the late fearful epi¬ 
demic—cholera—as an example. The conversa¬ 
tion turns on this topic; soon afterwards some of 
those who have taken part in it complain of 
uneasy sensations in the abdomen. They retire; 
and all the symptoms of the dreadful malady 
are actually developed. These are familiar 
examples which present themselves to us all: 
were I to borrow from books, their number 
might be increased without limit. And can we 
now doubt that the power capable of plunging 
man into such deep distress can also render him 
happy? If I am ill because I believe myself 
to be ill, why should I not have the power of 
keeping myself in health by the firm conviction 
that I am healthy? 

Let me now turn to the pleasing considerations 
of those cases which afford an affirmative reply 
to these questions. 

I shall not dwell on the miraculous effects which 
have been wrought in disease by faith and by 
hope, by dreams, by sympathies, or the charms of 
music; but I must allude to such facts as afford 
evidence that the power which acts so beneficially 


IMAGINATION. 


43 


upon shattered organs will be still more active 
upon healthy ones. All the curative influences 
just enumerated are derived from the imagina¬ 
tion ; and time will probably teach our posterity 
that many others, whose source we now seek 
elsewhere, must be referred to the same faculty. 
These means lose nothing by being traced to 
such an origin ; for if imagination make me well 
is my health purely imaginary ? A patient impor¬ 
tunes his medical attendant to give him certain 
pills : the physician declines, because he thinks 
them not adapted to the case: the patient 
insists, and the doctor, appearing to yield, 
simply gives him bread-pills. What must be 
the worthy man's surprise on learning, the next 
day, not only that the pills have produced the 
desired effect, but also excited vomiting? Was 
this effect the less real, because it arose from 
imagination ? 

A person labouring under paralysis of the 
tongue was attended by an English surgeon. 
The latter had invented a particular instrument 
from the use of which he anticipated great 
benefit; but before employing it he desired to 
ascertain the heat of the mouth, and so placed 
a pocket thermometer under the tongue. In a 


44 


IMAGINATION. 


few minutes the delighted patient, who mistook 
the thermometer for the instrument, assured 
him that he could move his tongue ( Sobernheim , 
Gesundheitslehre, 1835). Could this patient 
move his tongue the less, because imagination 
had cured him ? 

This is not the place to inquire how far the 
phenomena of animal magnetism may depend 
on the same cause. From time immemorial the 
effects of a fixed imagination on the body have 
been known and observed. “ What will you 
say/' writes the Asiatic traveller, Fontanier, from 
Teheran, in Persia, to Jaubert in Paris, 1814, 
“ when I inform you that the theory (practice?) 
of what we call animal magnetism was known to 
the people of the East long before it reached 
Europe ; that many persons in Asia follow it as 
a profession, and are therefore persecuted by 
the Mollahs V The inhabitants of the East are 
much more familiar than we are with the world 
of fancy, and hence its mysteries are better 
known to them. 

To this class of phenomena appears to belong 
the effects which strong and highly-gifted 
natures daily exert upon uncertain or gentle 
minds. They are, in fact, operations of the ima- 


IMAGINATION. 


45 


gination. The more superior understanding 
seldom influences our own until imagination has 
prepared the way for its reception. Great men 
do not exert an influence from their being at 
once understood; but by the halo which en¬ 
circles them and attracts the imagination of 
others into their atmosphere. A mental, as 
well as an external atmosphere surrounds the 
world and all its parts—surrounds the present 
age and the passing hour. Here all the vital 
effects of the individual are diffused over a 
whole; and from it they react on the individual 
who is unconscious of the influence. Thoughts, 
sensations, and modes of representation, hover 
unseen in the atmosphere ; we breathe them, we 
assimilate them, and communicate them, without 
being conscious of such processes. We might 
name it “ the outer soul of the world/' The 
spirit of the time is its reflexion in the pages 
of history ; and the strange phenomena of fashion 
are its “ fata morgana." It encompasses the 
lesser circles of society, so as to form a delicate 
and contagious principle; and thoughts becoming 
dissolved in it, it influences even those ideas we 
think most peculiarly our own. Whether it be, 
or be not, the natural and necessary result of the 


46 


IMAGINATION. 


organic action of one whole, still every accurate 
observer is speedily conscious of the special 
manner in which this atmosphere is influenced 
by the vital energy of some one individual, whose 
mode of existence is embodied in its own, and 
surrounded by it. The hero's courage diffuses 
itself, like a vivifying ether, through the hesi¬ 
tating and half-paralyzed ranks of his followers ; 
the fluttering of fear acts like an irresistible 
infection ; the jovial, heart-felt laugh, and the 
influence of indestructible good humour, carry 
away a whole company with a gentle, but irre¬ 
sistible force, and draw a smile in spite of 
himself, from the lips of the grumbler. Again, 
do we not all know that yawning spreads like 
wild-fire through a whole assembly ? Is not 
its action like that of the ungenial presence of 
a traitor among friends? I have often been 
asked—and the question is still proposed—how 
it comes to pass that a number of upright and 
trust-worthy persons should have asserted that 
they actually saw and heard spirits invoked 
by an exorcist ? It may be said, in a good and 
in a bad sense, that although miracles have 
ceased there still exists a mighty power— 
the power of Faith—which is able to remove 
mountains. 


IMAGINATION. 


47 


Esteem your brother to be good, and he is so. 
Confide in the half-virtuous man, and he becomes 
wholly virtuous. Encourage your pupil by the 
assumption that he possesses certain faculties, 
and they will be developed in him ; look on him 
as incapable of cultivation, and he continues so. 
Pronounce yourself in health, and you may be¬ 
come so. All nature is but an echo of the 
mind ; and from her we learn the highest of all 
laws—that the real springs from the ideal; that 
the ideal by degrees remodels the world. 

Volumes might be written on this subject; but 
I must content myself with remarking that, 
where the imagination is congenitally too 
feeble to adopt my system of mental dietetics, 
we should endeavour to associate it with one 
more powerful, from which it may imbibe 
the breath and milk of mental health. “The 
man/' says Hippel, “is in a state of mental 
hectic whose powers of imagination are weak; 
for the imagination is the lungs of the mind.” 
If it be allowable to spin out such analogies, 
I would say that imagination is the vegetative 
sphere of the inward man; while the perceptive 
faculties are its irritable sphere, and the capa¬ 
city of reflection constitutes its nobler domain, 


48 


IMAGINATION. 


the mental nervous system. Fancy is feminine 
in its nature. The life of woman lasts, on the 
whole, longer than that of man ; and hence 
results that superior physical power which is 
attached to tenderness and purity. How often 
do gentle, clinging, ivy-like natures, who seem 
woven out of mere moonlight and aether, and 
whose scanty nourishment consists of fairy 
dreams, continue to live to the surprise of them¬ 
selves and of their friends. Does not even Kant, 
the most temperate of the evangelists of reason, 
regard hope, next to sleep, that bringer of 
dreams, as the guardian and genius of human 
life ? and what is hope but the child of fancy— 
the sister of gentle dreams ? In truth, Hufeland 
is right when he says that a well-directed ima¬ 
gination is among the most important means of 
prolonging life. Kalobiotics are but a part of 
macrobiotics; and the beauty of our existence lies 
in the hands of imagination. When we hear a 
celebrated woman boast, that “ in advancing life 
she still preserves all the elastic impulses of child¬ 
hood and youth/' can we fail to see that she 
owes this blessing to that spirit of fancy, soaring 
on the wings of eternal youth, with which she 
excites the wondering admiration of her readers? 


IMAGINATION. 


49 


The melancholy fate of Novalis, Heinrich von 
Kleist, and others of the same disposition, might 
have been long retarded, had not the same powers 
of imagination which were capable of warding it 
off, rather tended by their injurious influences 
to paralyze all light and joyous impulses. And 
this brings me to the point which I wish to 
establish. To avail ourselves beneficially of 
imagination, we must never forget that since it is 
only the ideal part of the perceptive faculty, and 
feminine in nature, its passive character must 
always be retained. It is a gentle, vestal fire, 
which lights and animates all around, while 
guarded with virgin strictness; but it spreads 
ruin and devastation abroad when loosened from 
its bonds. 

We now come to another faculty which knows 
alike how to fan this flame, or damp it with a 
friendly smile. Wit! thou glorious element of 
human cultivation ! with thy noble companions, 
humour and joviality, thou exercisest the whole¬ 
some power of ridicule ; and so dost thou save 
us from obscurity, pedantry, empty grandeur, 
and desponding timidity. Before thy light but 
mighty sceptre flee harrowing care, inflated 
greatness, and torturing delusion. The mild 
E 


50 


IMAGINATION. 


balsam which thou pourest on wounded spirits 
gives inestimable comfort when every other con¬ 
solation fails. 

Who would not attempt to prepare this balsam, 
or at least learn how to apply it ? 

Among the various efforts which constitute 
the mental life of man upon our planet, it is 
Art which more especially belongs to the sphere 
in which we move. As in dreams, a spedies of 
genial vegetation arrests the wearying strife 
between mind and body, and by associating 
them more closely together, restores and rege¬ 
nerates our existence; so does Art furnish us 
with those waking dreams which sustain a life 
that would otherwise succumb beneath the dis¬ 
sensions of reality. Music, the plastic arts and 
those of eloquence, address themselves partly 
to the mind, partly to the body. An acute 
observer, who always endeavoured to discover 
the root whence each blossom sprung, main¬ 
tained that all the effects of music depend upon 
health; for when we feel the powers and func¬ 
tions of our body rightly attuned, then are we 
well. Music and song, indeed, animate all our 
organs in an harmonious manner; the fluttering 
movement communicates itself to the whole 


IMAGINATION. 


51 


nervous system, and our entire being joins in 
harmonious accord ; as if man, obeying a natural 
impulse, were proclaiming his existence in tones 
of exultation. And what are our feelings but a 
constant music of life? an internal vibration 
which the art of music embodies in air, and 
manifests externally? and does not every other 
art, like music, depend on this feeling of harmo- 

4 

nious proportion ? 

If these various branches of art were controlled 
and guided by the masculine element of the 
mind above alluded to, and thus made sub¬ 
servient to peace and reconciliation, they would 
form a palladium of health and cheerfulness. 
Then, and then only, would their mild ethereal 
presence refresh us during life, and even in 
death encompass us with harmonious sounds; 
so as to lead us by glorious and unheard grada¬ 
tions to the greater and eternal harmony of the 
spheres. 

But I must not travel beyond the limits of 
my subject to inquire how far the present con¬ 
dition of the fine arts is calculated to attain this 
high and noble object;—to consider whether the 
works of modern painters inspire a healthy-toned 
admiration, like that which we experience when 
E 2 


52 


IMAGINATION. 


contemplating the Vatican Apollo; or to ascer¬ 
tain whether the writings of our poets are 
adapted to cultivate and animate us—to cheer 
us and keep us in health. These questions, how¬ 
ever, are more closely connected with a system 
of mental dietetics than might be supposed. 


y. 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION—ILL-HUMOUR, 
DISTRACTION. 


The tendency to be affected by typhoid and epidemic diseases 
seems to be diminished by high moral character. 

Collection of Medical Obsebvations. 

By the term will I do not mean to express a 
more or less highly-developed faculty of desir¬ 
ing ; but that innate intellectual energy which, 
unfolding itself from all the other forces of the 
mind, like a flower from its petals, radiates 
through the whole sphere of our activity—a 
faculty which we are better able to feel than 
to define, and which we might, perhaps, most 
appropriately designate as the purely practical 
faculty of man. Even those most deficient in 
mental vigour must be conscious that they 
possess the faculty of willing; and when it is 
energetically developed, it manifests itself as 
character. This force constitutes man's indi¬ 
viduality, gives the first impulse to reason and 


54 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION 


imagination, and reveals the wonders of our 
spiritual life. It is on this faculty that the 
moralist, the legislator, the schoolmaster, the 
physician must act—above all others, he who 
would regimen his own mind in order that he 
might acquire dominion over it. Here we discover 
the illuminated soul of Stahl; since that force, 
of which this deep thinker has proclaimed such 
marvellous effects, even when shrouded in the 
darkness of instinct, manifests itself in the bright 
light of consciousness as will. And can we sup¬ 
pose that it will, in this improved state, be less 
powerful ? We may seek in vain to enlighten 
the understandings of the insane, or convince 
them of the absurdity of their fixed ideas; but 
we may succeed in effecting a cure if we can 
excite into activity the faculty to will and to do. 
Mental and physical effects would be increased 
beyond measure, if men understood how to pre¬ 
pare a balsam like this in their own minds; or 
would only learn how to prepare it—for the 
will may be cultivated, and, in a certain sense, 
acquired. Never was there greater need of 
inculcating this precept than at the present 
day, when the understanding and imagination 
are luxuriantly cultivated to the melancholy 
depreciation of other mental faculties. If, as 


ILL-HUMOUR—DISTRACTION. 


55 


Hardenberg remarks, character be only a highly 
cultivated will, there can be no question as to 
what is required for the cultivation of the cha¬ 
racter. Our understanding, deciding upon the first 
reasons presented to it, may be unsettled by those 
which succeed them ; and our feelings, moved by 
the first impulse, are equally susceptible of change 
from subsequent counteracting impressions. But 
it does not follow that we could have will with¬ 
out reason or feeling, or in opposition to them. 
What we desire is to render it flexible without 
weakness, and strong without obstinacy. The 
inner man, after all, is but one —one force—and 
the object of cultivation should be to give strength 
and proper direction to this force. “ Delibera¬ 
tion, 5 ' we might exclaim with Carlos, “ is a disease 
of the mind which can only lead to unhealthy 
action. Thou art free from all suffering if thou 
wilt be so ; the most miserable of all states is an 
inability to will anything. Feel thyself, and thou 
wilt be all that thou wast—all that thou canst 
be." Mind and body are hampered by a thousand 
constraints from which we are unable to free 
ourselves; but how many others are there which 
a single firm resolve would annihilate \—chains 
which we forge ourselves, and excuse under 


56 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION 


the names of irresolution, absence of mind, ill 
humour, &c. 

It especially behoves a system of mental 
dietetics to call these demons of health by their 
right names. 

Irresolution is a wretched convulsion of the 
mind, which only too readily terminates in in¬ 
tellectual paralysis. It is not death which is 
cruel to man; but man to himself, when, with 
half-closed eye, he gazes on its uncertain image, 
and sometimes advances towards it, sometimes 
turns his lingering looks away. M. Herg gives 
us a most striking example of what may be 
effected by mental uncertainty and by decision. 
A man was reduced to the last stage of hectic 
fever, kept up and augmented by the conflict 
between the hope which his physician felt bound 
to instil, and his own consciousness of his des¬ 
perate condition. In this juncture M. Herg 
resolved to try a last and bold experiment, 
and announced to the unhappy man that his 
case was utterly hopeless. The shock gave rise 
to violent excitement, followed by a dull and 
mournful calm. In the evening the patient's 
pulse was regular; and he passed the night 
more tranquilly than he had been accustomed 


ILL-HUMOUR—DISTRACTION. 


57 


to do. The fever now gradually abated, and the 
patient in three weeks was restored to health. 
When Herg ventured on so bold an experi¬ 
ment, he must have been well acquainted 
with the subject on whom he operated; but 
the principle on which he made the attempt 
is one deeply implanted in the nature of man. 
A frequent cause of irresolution is connected 
with the reflection, “ It is too late—no effort 
can now avail.” Yet such a consideration 
should lead us to resolution. If it be really 
too late the resolve is easy, because necessary. 
If it be not too late, resolve without delay, and 
success will crown your effort. There is pro¬ 
found wisdom in the old proverb, that “the 
knight must not look around him, if he would 
win the treasure.” 

Distraction, which may be termed an irreso¬ 
lute observation, bears the same relation to the 
mind that muscular tremor does to the body— 
an oscillation which shows that the mental 
power is insufficient to act with perseverance 
in one direction, but constantly requires rest, 
remission, and change. Experience proves that 
bodily infirmity may be relieved, or even gra¬ 
dually and permanently removed, by a powerful 


58 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION 


impulse; and we may reasonably expect the 
same beneficial results from strong volition, the 
deepest and most special of all mental impulses. 
I have often observed, in my own person, that the 
appearances called muscce volitantes,and the flut¬ 
tering movement of letters in a book, cease as 
soon as I fix my eyes steadily on the vibrating 
objects themselves. And in the same way a firm 
resolution is capable of directing and strengthen- 
ingourinternalfaculties. I have, therefore, always 
regarded the much talked-of good effects of dis¬ 
traction in mental or bodily disease as very doubt¬ 
ful. On the contrary, I am inclined to believe 
that concentration of thought and observation 
(the fixation of the will upon our own actions) is 
the curative resource to which we should look in 
such cases. For life acts from within outward; 
whereas death, like disease, acts from without 
inward. If any one should object to this, that he 
is devoid of the force necessary to direct himself, 
I would recommend him to place himself in some 
position where he must act. This, at least, he 
can do.. The first step is everything. A man may 
be without an occupation, and have no desire 
to enter on one. Let him devote himself to the 
state, or to some individual, in such a manner 


ILL-HUMOUR—DISTRACTION. 


59 


that he shall be compelled to work. By laying 
hold of the first best that offers, and cutting 
short all choice, we put an end to all vacillation; 
the melancholy cloud of torturing thoughts is at 
once dissipated by active, if unwilling, social em¬ 
ployment ; useless cares are thus thrown aside, 
and an apparent cheerfulness assumed, which 
eventually ends in becoming a real one. “For the 
cure of mental diseases/' writes a deep thinker, 
“ the understanding can do nothing, reason but 
little, time much, resignation and activity 
everything." This mode of preventive, or rather 
curative treatment is based on the law that a 
strong stimulus must always displace a weaker 
one. When the mind, and through it the body, 
are acted upon by the will, the most diffusible 
and potent of all stimulants, other agents 
must be blunted and rendered comparatively 
innoxious. In the world of thought, as in that 
of matter, we cannot always avoid contact with 
injurious or irritating agents ; but a fixed deter¬ 
mination in one direction necessarily implies 
abstraction from all others, especially where this 
tendency is active and not contemplative. But 
even the latter may produce marvellous effects 
when the mind is so wholly absorbed in its own 


60 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION 


immensity that time and space seem no more. 
Sender was unaware of the existence of the fire 
which was consuming his house; and Archimedes 
exclaimed to the soldier, with sword uplifted 
over his head: “Disturb me not while I am 
drawing this circle/' 

Ill-humour is a demon which has contrived 
under various denominations to find a place 
in society. We all possess our moods and 
humours; but woe to the man who is possessed 
by them. An intellectual female writer advises 
the poet to use the various moods of his mind as 
the sculptor uses the marble; and does not the 
same precept apply to man generally ? Are not 
true dietetics an art of life ? If they be not, 
we should at any rate endeavour to raise them to 
such a standard ; for then, perhaps, the art of 
living well might be converted into the art of 
living long, as it was by the cheerful and healthy 
Greeks. Lavater has left us a moral lecture 
against ill-humour, and I feel tempted to subjoin 
a medical one on the same subject. No one 
can avoid being sometimes sad; but every 
one can eschew ill-humour. The former has a 
certain poetic charm about it; the latter is 
utterly devoid of attraction. It is the very prose 


ILL-HUMOUR—DISTRACTION. 61 

of life—the sister of ennui and laziness. We 
might justly denominate it a sin against the 
Holy Spirit in man. If we seek to trace the 
source of this poison from the experience of 
every-day life, we shall find that it depends on 
habit, “ that nurse of man,” and of his vices. 
Accustomed from childhood to spend every 
superfluous hour in cheerful occupation, until 
the sweet yet urgent demands of sleep com¬ 
pelled us to sound and healthy dreams, we should 
never have been ill-humoured. Were we never to 
waste the sweet morning hours in sleep, we should 
know nothing of that morose indolence which 
generally arises from the feeling of having slept 
too long. Did we habitually and constantly 
arrange everything around us with regard to 
cheerfulness and order, the same regularity 
would be harmoniously reflected in our Souls. 
In a cheerful, orderly apartment a man's 
feelings become cheerful; they partake of that 
which surrounds him. But the best way to 
avoid ill-humour is to employ our leisure 
moments in a proper manner. We are not 
always well disposed for everything; but we 
are always disposed for something. Let each 
one, therefore, do that to which his inclination 


62 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION 


prompts him, resting satisfied with the truth 
that variety is the law which rules the world. 


“ If in the evil hour thou rest 
The good that comes is doubly blest” 

says the poet. Solitude engenders ill humour, 
and, according to Plato, selfishness. Intercourse 
with the world may also make a man morose, or 
even selfish; but a well-regulated interchange 
between solitude and society renders us cheerful 
and inwardly healthy. Religion—that true know¬ 
ledge of the love which should guide and accom¬ 
pany us at every step—will preserve its followers 
from ill-humour more certainly than any other 
influence. The disposition which receives all 
blessings with gratitude, will support evil fortune 
more lightly. When a man has had the mis¬ 
fortune to be born ill-humoured, he should not, 
as most do, deceive himself; he should rather 
regard himself as labouring under disease, 
and employ every means in his power to get 
rid of the affliction. Let us now consider what 
these means are—what is the force of volition 
over influences, which seem entwined with the 
very roots of our nervous system. We have ex- 


ILL-HUMOUR—DISTRACTION. 


63 


amples in abundance. I have read of an indi¬ 
vidual, though I cannot remember where, who * 
by a strong volition, could produce an erysipe- x 
latous inflammation in any part of his body, i 
The will also exercises a remarkable influence 
over the organs of vision. There are persons 
who are able to control the usually involun¬ 
tary action of the heart by volition. It is 
said that a certain tribe of American savages, \ 
when their mission is complete, lie down, close 
their eyes, and determining to die—actually do 
die in the flower of their years by the main 
force of will. The successful efforts made by 
Demosthenes to correct certain imperfections 
are well known. In Brown’s posthumous writ¬ 
ings, we find a description of the manner 
in which the American ventriloquist, Carvin, 
learned 


X 


*5 


i k 




his art by a method alike remark¬ 
able in a physiological, psychological, and ethical 
point of view; and which affords a good 
practical illustration of all human efforts. There 
was first a presentiment awakened by accident— 
next a feeble attempt followed by apparent suc¬ 
cess—then a conviction of incapacity—efforts to 
reattain the former successful moment—a second 







64 


WILL—CHARACTER—INDECISION 


and genuine success—incessant and sanguine 
practice—proficiency—and at last an established 
habit. 

These experimental efforts drew the following 
observations from the reflecting mind of the 
narrator. 

“ When we reflect on the numerous modifica¬ 
tions of muscular movements, how imperfectly 
they are generally trained in the present day, 
and further that the domain of the will is 
unbounded, we shall cease to wonder at the 
results now mentioned. Some individuals 
acquire the power of concealing the tongue so 
completely that even an anatomist can scarcely 
discover the organ. This is effected by a com¬ 
bination of little known muscular movements; 
although we might all develope it if we so 
willed. When I had once discovered this 
singular faculty in myself, I carefully observed 
all the phenomena attending the act and sub¬ 
jected them to the control of the will, until 
the efforts, at first difficult, become mere play 
by habit and practice/' So certain is it that 
the wondrous organization of man conceals 
unrevealed powers which an iron will may 
awaken and develope to astonishing perfection. 


ILL-HUMOUR—DISTRACTION. 65 

The true stoic philosophy, which was beyond 
doubt the purest, loftiest, most practical, and 
widely diffused of all ethical systems prior to 
Christianity, affords us ample proofs of the power 
of strong volition. No one can imagine that 
the minds of the stoics were steeled by the cold 
syllogisms of their school. No; it was the 
strength of the will which formed the basis 
of this the most moral of all heathen systems, 
and produced those wondrous results which the 
present feeble-willed generation admires, as it 
would the mythical toils of the slothful Schehe¬ 
razade. Reasoning must always be founded on 
experience ; but reasoning has never yet engen¬ 
dered experience, unless we apply the latter term 
to a still-born and crippled form of experiment. 

Cicero relates how a stoic philosopher, at¬ 
tempting to establish in the presence of Pompey 
that “ pain is no evil/' subdued a violent attack 
of gout in his own person and demonstrated his 
argument, as it were, on his own feet. Was 
this act one of simple demonstration? Was it 
not rather the living sentiment of its import 
which effected the miracle? The stoic school 
first taught its followers, by great examples, to 
exercise their volition : the latter, having con- 
F 


66 


WILL—CHARACTER, ETC. 


vinced themselves of the reality of this power, 
reflected on it, and handed down to us this 
simple but grand formula of doctrine—“ What 
the spirit wills, the body must.” Neither 
dogmas, nor contemplation, nor enthusiasm 
alone can animate and inspire man, as with 
a light from above; but his own inner nature 
must work outwards and upwards. The cater¬ 
pillar is not transformed into a butterfly 
because it has tasted honey from the flower; 
but it lives on honeyed nectar because it has 
become a butterfly. 

Let us see whether we are able, by firm and 
persevering resolution, to convert into flesh and 
blood the beautiful precepts which have been 
transmitted'to us by the noble models of anti¬ 
quity. 

God grant that it may be so ! 


VI. 


UNDERSTANDING—CULTURE. 


I regard even physical pain as a state of entanglement into 
which we are unable to penetrate. 

Our task is to obtain clearness of mind, and a pure, if possible, 
a strong will. For the rest it matters little whether we 
weep, pray, or laugh.— Rahel Varnhagen. 


The preceding fragment has been designed to 
show the power of the will, and the necessity of 
adopting some definite course of action ; but it 
may be asked, what should we will? what course 
are we to take ? These vital questions must 
be answered by knowledge —the eternal fruit of 
the tree of life—matured by the rays of reason. 
Imagination becomes lost in dreams, and the 
will is annihilated until both faculties are con¬ 
secrated by mind—“the dispeller of chaotic 
confusion, the arbiter of fate.” The noblest 
theme of mental dietetics, is a consideration 
of the power exercised by cultivation over the 
F 2 


68 


UNDERSTANDING. 


obscure forces of our sensual nature, and of the 
aid which mental culture affords in establishing 
the health of individuals and even of mankind 
in general. 

There is, probably, no phenomenon which 
astonishes the reflecting inquirer into man's 
nature, more than the possibility of acting on 
the concrete, bodily organization by the power 
of abstract thought—by that agent which we 
may call “the feeling of thought." It is the 
prerogative of man that his ideas should excite 
feelings, and that the mind should act down¬ 
wards on the body through the former, or 
the body act upwards on the mind, through 
the feelings specially so called. Humanity is 
rooted in this capacity for intellectual as well 
as moral and religious feeling. When animals 
of an inferior order feel, they do not think; 
they do not possess any relation which would 
allow of feelings like ours. These exist in man 
alone, and constitute the fact of our conscious¬ 
ness. We must, however, remember that our 
duty is here to indicate their practical appli¬ 
cations, not to discuss their nature. It is 
sufficient to know, that the man who has 
trained himself thereto feels the power exer- 


CULTURE. 


69 


cised by thought over his whole being, and 
attributes to mind the honour due to it. 

Those psychological observers who have ac¬ 
customed themselves to consider the interior and 
exterior as intimately combined — as the in¬ 
spiration and expiration of one living being— 
will readily understand and apprehend the 
views which I have here advanced. Not so 
those who are wont to regard mind and body as 
antagonistic entities associated in an arbitrary 
manner; or who adopt the prevailing opinion, 
that every enjoyment of man's sensual nature is 
detrimental to his spiritual being, or that the 
mind can only be cultivated at the expense of the 
body. Such a view would condemn the unfor¬ 
tunate mortal to an alternative of destruction in 
one form or another, from that creative force 
which every desire excites within him. But it 
may be asked, do not the frequent examples of 
sickness in the learned and the citizen, and of 
health in the illiterate and the peasant, confirm 
the opinion now alluded to ? I answer that 
everything depends on our forming a correct 
idea of cultivation. The learned man has, 
perhaps, devoted half his life to geometry, and 
neglected the study of his fellow man ; or he 


70 


UNDERSTANDING. 


may have traced history through all its streams, 
and suffered the gold of the present to lie 
buried in the sand—attempting to reach the 
kernel before he has touched the shell. The 
corpulent man, on the other hand, may not be 
so thoroughly devoid of mind as his learned 
neighbour imagines, for he may have made a 
study of the art of enjoyment. The peasant 
may know quite enough to enable him to fulfil 
moral and social duties. This is no trifling 
progress : the inhabitant of a city may not know 
as much, and will have to pay the penalty of his 
ignorance. True cultivation is the harmonious 
development of all our powers: it alone can 
render us happy, good, and healthy. This it is 
which sheds a light on the sphere that our capa¬ 
cities have fitted us to fill; which teaches us to 
know our powers by testing their use, and 
enables us to subject the fancy of childhood, or 
the stormy will of youth, to the clear light 
of matured reason, without destroying either 
faculty. 

This essential portion of mental dietetics must 
be left to each to elaborate; more especially 
during that period of maturity when the sun of 
life has reached its meridian. 


CULTURE. 


71 


Can we separate the disposition and develop¬ 
ment of the will from those of our perceptions ? 
Volition and feeling—and consequently pleasure 
or pain—are but results of the manner in which 
we contemplate ourselves and the world; and 
the manner again depends on our development. 
Comfort and despair, Eden and the desert, lie 
within us. When the eye is clear the world 
looks bright; so that while our mode of thought 
forms the basis of mental disposition, it also 
constitutes the groundwork of our well-being. 
Hence much can be effected by a system of 
thought which originates within ourselves and 
has become identified with our whole being. It 
will sustain the weary, give rest to the sufferer, 
and protect the healthy. The prolongation of 
Spinoza's life may be partly attributed to the 
well-grounded convictions of his mind. The 
spirit becomes cheerful when it contemplates the 
world from an elevated and comprehensive point 
of view. When we fix our eye on the ultimate 
end, the evils of this life seem insignificant. 
Let us lay less stress on man's approbation—its 
loss will afflict us little, nor shall we fail to find 
other objects. “Let us fix the mind on the 
opposite of that which causes pain, and we 


72 


UNDERSTANDING. 


shall learn what is required for general harmony. 
When the egoist feels his troubles most acutely, 
on perceiving how few things answer his desires, 
his egoism forms its own punishment.” Let us, 
then, extend our views and cultivate noble 
aspirations; let us learn to know that if life be a 
gift, it is a charge likewise—a plenary power of 
doing what is right—but only in the sacred 
name of duty. 

If the main cause of indisposition is to be 
sought in an over anxious attention to the affairs 
of our own cherished bodies—as indeed a careful 
examination of the present generation proves to 
be the case—what can remedy the evil more 
effectually than elevation of the mind from a 
lower to a higher object ? It is deplorable to 
see how feeble minds are slowly undermining 
existence by the very precautions which they 
take to prolong it. The very physician whom 
they consult cannot fail to despise them, and 
they die of their desire for life. And why ? 
Because they are deficient in culture of mind, 
which would have relieved them from such 
miseries by unchaining their better part, and 
giving it control over the material. 

I shall say nothing of the many results of 


CULTURE. 


73 


stoical philosophy which excite our admiration, 
since I have attributed these rather to the will 
than to other causes; but I may ask, have any 
class of men fulfilled the sphere of existence 
allotted to them with more cheerfulness of mind 
than those deep thinkers who, from Pythagoras 
to Goethe, have applied their souls to the 
noblest ideas ? It is only by cheerfulness 
that we can preserve health; and this view is 
itself the work of the result of insight. That 
acute thinker who has penetrated the most 
deeply into the wondrous abyss of the mind— 
that philosopher who has ever been regarded 
as the most obscure and gloomy of any, has 
bequeathed to us the remarkable axiom that 
“ Cheerfulness can have no excess, but must 
always arise from good; while sadness always 
springs from evil; but the more the spirit 
understands, the happier we are/' It is the calm 
and noble privilege of true philosophy that she 
can indicate to man a point of view whence he 
may look down on the changing stream of events, 
without care, without strife, but not without 
sympathy; whence, in the rich unity and ful¬ 
ness of his mind, the past appears a legacy, the 
future a definite end full of hope, the present a 


74 


UNDERSTANDING. 


treasure confided to his use, whose value he 
alone can estimate, which he alone can turn to 
profit and enjoy with the even, happy spirit 
of youth. Such is the power of philosophy, 
but only of that philosophy which neither makes 
the head burn, nor the heart grow cold ; which 
pervades the whole being from the innermost 
depths of thought; which must be loved, in 
order to be learnt; and which begins and ends 
in an endeavour to comprehend and test itself. 
How insane is it to estimate and envy unknown 
happiness. Happiness is an idea; and hence 
exists only in the mind. Whoever has learned 
by experience to compare dull, sensual enjoy¬ 
ment with the feeling of mental serenity, will 
perceive that this is not a mere play upon 
words. This envy only concerns the non-exist¬ 
ence of unhappiness, which is also but a con¬ 
ception of the mind. Hence mental serenity 
forms the protection and safety of our being. 

Self-knowledge is the most important result 
of mental cultivation. The supreme Author of 
our being has allotted to each individual a de¬ 
termined relation of forces which move in one 
limited sphere. Neither to exceed nor to fall 


CULTURE. 


75 


short of this measure insures the integrity, the 
health of the individual as of one, whose very 
identity depends upon this relation. Hence to 
estimate it aright is the climax of human wisdom. 
Further than this none can go ; and more 
than this the superscription on the Delphic 
temple did not require. He who knows how 
to attain this proportion by that real develop¬ 
ment of his powers—which is less a possession 
than a mode of existence—will preserve life 
and health. His condition will be free and 
unrestrained, belonging only to himself; and 
whilst, with Egmont, he may learn how to com¬ 
mand nature, he will know how to remove 
every foreign and morbid element from his 
blood. “The greatest treasure that God can 
give his creatures is and ever will be—genuine 
existence/' If these words of Herder be true, 
cultivation is the key to the most precious 
of treasures; for as Nature has insured the per¬ 
manence of existence by implanting in us a 
force of resistance and self-renovation, so may 
we, on our side, increase the force of these attri¬ 
butes by self-acquired powers of mind. Levity 
—that joyous expression of a naturally elastic 


76 


UNDERSTANDING. 


character — exerts a remarkably preservative 
influence, permeating our whole being with 
life as with an sethereal vapour; and if such be 
the case, why may not the lightness of spirit, 
which emanates from the consciousness of a clear 
and distinct individuality exercise a deeper in¬ 
fluence than this involuntary and transient 
intoxication of the senses ? 

Self-knowledge, the crowning acquisition of 
mental cultivation, is only attained by regarding 
ourselves as parts of a whole , yet associated with 
all the component parts thereof. A vital know¬ 
ledge of this fact forms the beginning of the 
true human development and of the contented 
state of mind and body with which it is con¬ 
nected. 

When we take an unprejudiced view of the 
hypochondriac, we must confess that his mis¬ 
fortunes depend on a melancholy egoism. He 
lives, thinks, and suffers for his miserable self 
alone ; he is dead to the sublime spectacle which 
the world of nature and of man present to the 
feeling heart; he is insensible to the joys, and 
what is far worse, to the sorrows of his fellow- 
men ; he watches with exhausting perseverance 


CULTURE. 


77 


every faint sensation in the remotest parts of 
his trembling frame ; he is tortured, nay, more, 
he dies, during his whole life. He envies others 
and becomes to himself a source of terror which 
is only exhausted with existence itself. The life 
he constantly chases becomes at last indifferent 
to him, and finally, he sinks into the condition 
of a mere animal. He can no longer exclaim 
with the healthy man “nothing human is foreign 
to me for to him everything human is foreign; 
and with the involuntary desperation of an 
Orestes—whom the avenging deities are gra¬ 
dually robbing of his best possession, self-con¬ 
sciousness—he clings to the miserable lump of 
earth, which he calls himself, until he sinks at 
last into the clod to which he has debased him¬ 
self. What are the world, nature, mankind, 
cultivation to such a being ? Hypochondriasis is 
egoism carried to excess, and egoism arises from 
want of cultivation. Give this unhappy man's 
mind a timely direction towards the sum of 
things, open his heart, and unveil his eyes to 
the fate of his fellow men, in one word— 
develope him; and the demon, whom opiates 
could not calm, nor tonics control, will fly before 


78 


UNDERSTANDING. 


the light of spiritual day. And if a cure be 
impossible, there is still some consolation in 
exclaiming with the unhappy poet— 

“ Alles leidet! Ich allein 
Soil erhaben, iiber Schmerzen, 

Unter Grabem glucklick sein ?” 

All men suffer! And shall I 
Refuge crave, or in the grave 
Seek a lone felicity ? 

If the disclosure of the great total of nature can 
so benefit the sufferer, how much more will it 
not prevent the origin of his disease ? Such views 
give rise to the noblest practical results to which 
man can attain, and which can alone determine 
health, so far as it depends on himself,—self¬ 
conquest and self-denial,—which combine in 
equal parts to produce temperance. Powerful 
volition is proof of a strong nature. But it 
is still greater to sacrifice the will in right 
season, and this resolution education alone can 
effect, by fixing the mind on the benefits of 
order and moderation, before which all arbitrary 
manifestations of the will stand condemned as 
acts of folly. The will, when powerfully ex¬ 
cited, exercises its most striking influence in 
transient conditions ; whereas reason acts on 


CULTURE. 


79 


chronic mental diseases: just as joy instanta¬ 
neously accelerates the vital process, but when 
often repeated exhausts it; while cheerfulness, 
exerting what we might call a nutritious influ¬ 
ence, elevates the standard of life in a gentle 
but steady manner. An intelligent author has 
remarked that the best way of avoiding the 
social or natural collisions to which we are ex¬ 
posed in this life, is to rise above them. Now, 
Contemplation, the daughter of reason, is the 
only means by which man can thus raise him¬ 
self above circumstances. The mind of God 
animates the immeasurable creation, and He 
has bestowed on the man who knows how to 
develope himself, the privilege of participating 
in the fountain of life, which flows through the 
everlasting realms of space. Plunged in a sea 
of contemplation, and yielding passively to the 
stream which bears him onward along the ocean 
of eternity, the Brahmin passes in cheerful health 
through a term of years to which the restless 
European never attains. Although Nature was 
not bountiful to Kant, the depth and force of his 
noble thoughts gave him constant health, and 
thus seeming to confirm the theory of many 
learned men, who would establish an affinity 


80 


UNDERSTANDING. 


between the Hindoos and Germans. We cannot 
pretend that Wieland, the very pattern of an 
harmonious life, was, although a poet, in¬ 
debted to imagination or violent emotions for 
the charming phenomena of his beautiful ex¬ 
istence. No : it was the equable development 
of his mental faculties, and the submission of his 
clear understanding to those laws which govern 
the universe, which, associated with a happy 
organization, brought him to that joyous and 
sound old age which stands like a beautiful 
fable in the history of German literature. 

What then is thought but a human, bene¬ 
ficent, and pleasurable occupation, constituting 
a provident mean between diversion and con¬ 
centration, and which gently connects man with 
his higher destiny, while it fulfils the require¬ 
ments of his earthly being. How profitable is 
this insight into the grand chain of physical 
powers which are everywhere linked together, 
and point to one final happy unity! How 
cheering is it to be able to point with reverence 
to those mighty spirits which stand, like hoary 
deities, in the temple of history, as signs of the 
mind's power over the nothingness of earthly 
decay ! Plato continued to learn and to teach 


CULTURE. 


81 


in his eightieth year. Sophocles was far ad¬ 
vanced in life when he composed his (Edipus 
Colonos. Cato, when equally aged, felt no 
weariness of life. Isocrates shone as an orator 
in his ninety-fourth year; Fleury as a states¬ 
man in his ninetieth; Loudon, according to 
his biographer, manifested the same intelligence 
at Belgrade that he had shown thirty years 
earlier at Domstoedtl; and Goethe's existence, 
prolonged far beyond the ordinary limits of 
longevity, was cheered by pleasant thoughts 
gathered from his having studied the secrets of 
Nature, as revealed to him in the primitive type 
of her works. 

Let no one affirm that our age presents a melan¬ 
choly counter proof of the effect of intellectual 
culture on the body; or that the debility of this 
generation appears to have increased with true 
civilization and mental polish. Is polish of mind 
its cultivation ? and has not true cultivation, 
wherever it has been exercised in the present age, 
produced the most genial effects ? In some cases, 
perhaps, premature and excessive exercise of the 
intellectual faculties may have affected the bodily 
health; but a cure may be derived from the 
same source whence the disease proceeded. Do 
G 


82 


UNDERSTANDING. 


not reading, conversation, and reflection, open up 
rich springs from which we are sure to imbibe 
renovated health and cheerfulness? I do not 
here allude to the metamorphosis of a defi¬ 
cient organism; for faith and imagination are 
here more likely to work miracles than under¬ 
standing. But if we watch intelligent, clear- 
minded individuals, we shall find that they 
complain of mental and physical indisposition 
less frequently than persons who consider sen¬ 
sual enjoyments to constitute the real happiness 
of this earthly sphere, and who, when blind 
fortune has raised them to power, will decide in 
a moment on the life or death of a brother man, 
according to their temper, their caprice, or the 
state of their bodily functions. 

When we have refreshed imagination with 
the wonders of art, fortified character by mo¬ 
rality, and satisfied our desires by cultivation, 
we shall be able to resist with ease those inju¬ 
rious influences which are constantly assaulting 
us from without. We perceive with inward 
satisfaction that all mental and bodily efforts 
tend to the same end—that of perfecting and 
rendering us happy; that life, art, and science 


CULTURE. 


83 


are rays of the same sun, beneath whose genial 
heat our existence is brought to maturity. 

On reconsidering what I have written I find 
that I have played three variations on a single 
theme ; in other words, have played the same 
melody on three different instruments, while I 
endeavoured—for the sake of observation—to 
separate man into various parts, although he is 
essentially an unity. This is a repetition, and 
yet not so: for as the relation of powers and 
tendencies varies in each individual, those who 
regard my observations as worthy of notice must 
develop them according to their requirements— 
must evoke or limit the imagination, the will, 
or the thought—in short must adopt the method 
which I shall propose in the following chapter for 
the establishment of a healthy condition.* 

* The recent observations of Brigham show what progress 
has been lately made in the doctrine that intelligence influ¬ 
ences the bodily health of man. This author endeavours to 
prove that learned men generally attain an advanced age, 
and that civilization has always the effect of reducing the 
standard of mortality. Hence he attaches great importance 
to temperance societies, and shows that in the elevation of 
our sources of enjoyment lies the special means by which 
mental cultivation contributes to the well-being of the body. 

G 2 



TEMPERAMENTS—PASSIONS. 


Passions are either deficiencies or exaggerated virtues. 

Goethe. 

The present sketches will be regarded as too 
arbitrary and imperfect, if the questions of tem¬ 
perament and passion do not receive some brief 
consideration. Little remains to be said on the 
former, while too much, perhaps, has been 
written on the latter, both with and without 
passion, notwithstanding which they continue to 
govern us as powerfully as ever. I had hoped 
that enough had been said on these essential 
points to enable the reader to develope them 
at his pleasure; but while some readers are 
grateful for conciseness, others require explana¬ 
tion on everything. The former class must 
therefore excuse me if, to content the latter, I 
subjoin the following observations. They are 
mere scattered notices ; and I leave each person 


TEMPERAMENTS—PASSIONS. 


85 


to supply his own dissertations on psychology 
and biological philosophy as he may deem most 
appropriate. 

There are only two species of temperament. 
The four well-known varieties, and the millions 
which are less known, are merely modifications 
of two species, and combinations of their modi¬ 
fications. These are the active and the passive 
form ; and every other variety may be conve¬ 
niently arranged under them.* 

As character comprises the entire sphere of 
the educated will, so temperament is nothing 
else than the sum of our natural inclinations and 
tendencies. Inclination is the material of the 
will, developing itself when controlled , into 
character, and when controlling , into passions. 
Temperament is, therefore, the root of our 
passions ; and the latter, like the former, may be 
distinguished into two principal classes. Intel¬ 
ligent psychologists and physicians have always 
recognised this fact; the former dividing tem- 

* Lavater, Zimmermann, and Von Hildebrandt adopt a 
similar classification. The author of the treatise on “ diet,” 
included among the works of 'Hippocrates, takes the same, 
view of temperaments : as likewise the Brunonian school 
which maintained two antagonist, sthenic and asthenic, states. 



86 


TEMPERAMENTS. 


peraments into active and passive, the latter 
classifying the passions as exciting and depress¬ 
ing. We would apply the same statement to 
the affections or emotions. The temperament 
commonly denominated sanguine or choleric is 
the same as our active species; and that 
known as the phlegmatic or melancholy is the 
same as our passive one. It is not true, as 
many people seem to think, that an inert tem¬ 
perament plays an easy part in the practical 
philosophy of life ; for the force of inertia is one 
of the strongest in nature, and far more difficult 
to overcome than animation. Yet the essence of 
mental dietetics consists in overcoming this force; 
and the wisdom of life is partial to movement, 
not to repose. Here, again, its main point is to 
discover the limits assigned to each individual, 
and the sphere of active development in which 
he is capable of maintaining his mental and 
bodily health, and to soothe or excite his facul¬ 
ties accordingly. Indifference is death itself; 
and hence it is absurd to attempt to stifle passions 
at their source. For the source of passion is in¬ 
clination; without inclination we feel no interest; 
and without interest, life becomes a burthen. The 
ancient fable informs us that the Muses were the 


PASSIONS. 


87 


daughters of Memory, and Memory the daughter 
of Love. Inclination must exist before wisdom 

9 

can direct it; but indifference will pervade the 
dreary wilderness which is void of inclination. 
Ennui and sloth are the sister and brother of 
indifference—a fearful family alliance. “ He who 
wounds me/' exclaims an animated writer, “ in¬ 
jures my body only: but he who wearies me assas¬ 
sinates my soul.” And he who wearies himself 
needs to be placed under a system of mental 
dietetics. Life is built upon love and hatred. It 
avails little to know that hatred is a form of con¬ 
cealed love, as death is an unknown form of life: 
it suffices to be aware that both are expressions of 
the same life, attraction and repulsion, equally 
essential to its well-being. Dejection itself is an 
element of mental activity, and as necessary to 
our mental disposition as bile is to our physical. 
Passions are as much forces as any other powers of 
mind or body. No one can call valour into exist¬ 
ence, but a trifling excitement and opposition will 
evoke and arm it. Forces are never to be neglected 
or suppressed : they must be studied, united, 
raised, and arranged. All lies in this. Does not 
the cautious Lessing speak of a passion for truth? 
Is not enthusiasm an affection—a flame which 


88 


TEMPERAMENTS. 


nourishes and sustains the mental and bodily life 
of man ? Enthusiasm raises us over a thousand 
rocks on which cool calculation would be 
shattered: it gives a warmth which brings 
into play powerful and unsuspected forces of 
maintenance and salvation. He who looks into 
his own condition must often feel the beneficial 
influence of active mental impulses. Persons of 
talent rejoice in finding a suitable theatre for the 
display of their powers—some stimulus in the 
internal or external world. “ The elder Cato/’ 
says his biographer, “ was never perfectly happy 
except when Jove thundered.” 

But, it may be rejoined, does not a passion 
less life protect us from fretting ourselves away ? 
May not insects be retained for years under 
their chrysalis envelope ? Do not plants shut up 
in cellars live longer than those in the open air, 
because the circulation of sap is more actively 
maintained in the latter? What say you to 
marmots or to toads inclosed in stones? My 
answer is simple. Men are not toads ; nor is a 
long life necessarily an healthy one. If passions 
—if exaggeration of our tendencies do no other 
good, at all events, they assist us in overcoming 
other passions. We can never neutralize any 


PASSIONS. 


89 


affection by reflection alone: we can scarcely 
moderate it; but one affection will drive out 
another. Love and pride, annoyance and friend¬ 
ship, mirth and anger, furnish examples. Nature 
herself—the wisest and safest of all precep¬ 
tresses—employs inclination when she wants to 
lead man; and she knows best how this should be 
excited. Rapid joy exhausts by its excitement; 
continued cheerfulness keeps up the formative 
powers of life. The former acts as an irritant; 
the latter as a strengthening and nutritive 
remedy. In the same manner tumultuous anger 
is analogous to excessive joy; and noble displea¬ 
sure to continuous cheerfulness. Here also 
ethics and dietetics are combined in a remarkable 
manner. The fire of wrath injures our bodily 
organism ; while the steady flame of indignation 
exerts a beneficial influence on it. And do not 
these differences depend on circumstances or cha¬ 
racters, and therefore on moral causes ? Anger 
is a low grade of excitement against what is itself 
common, and brings us down to the level of 
its object. When we are angry our antagonist 
has attained his ends ; and, so far, we are in his 
power. Indignation is a moral emotion which 
elevates us above what is vulgar, and preserves 


90 


TEMPERAMENTS. 


us from what is ignoble, by teaching us to de¬ 
spise it. It is calm but exalted anger which 
plays round the lips of the Apollo Belvidere, 
giving unintentional evidence of his divine ex¬ 
traction. Plato calls the passions “fevers of 
the Soul/' because, like febrile affections of the 
body, they are crises which often cure the most 
deep-seated evils by a purifying and refining 
process. It is unnecessary to illustrate the effects 
of good passions by the well-known results of 
evil ones ; this much, however, I would observe, 
that of all the affections Hope is the most 
animating, and, therefore, the most important 
in relation to our present subject. This heaven 
bom presentiment is a delicate portion of our 
being,—an individuality which can never be 
annihilated. 

In the preceding remarks I may appear to 
plead the cause of the passions; but, to correct 
any such idea, I will observe, that to produce 
the favourable results now ascribed to them the 
passions must be kept in subjection ; that is to 
say, they must be active. 

When the passions exceed the line of modera¬ 
tion they become passive. Everything apper¬ 
taining to reason may be called active, because it 
is only while reasoning that man can be in a state 


PASSIONS. 


91 


of activity. On the other hand, everything 
under the control of the senses is passive, since 
man here succumbs to the dominion of rude 
physical forces. It depends on ourselves to 
prescribe the direction. Thus, emotion enlivens 
as long as it excites admiration ; but let it pro¬ 
duce sympathy and it at once enfeebles us. 
Violent anger is not an excitant as one might be 
disposed to think. The better affections are 
annihilated by it, and its mode of expression is 
of a passive kind. “ It was not calmness, but 
the intensity of anger that moved him/' says 
Plutarch, in speaking of the silence and appa¬ 
rent composure of Coriolanus, “ which the ignor¬ 
ant/’ he adds, “ regard as tranquillity." Strong 
passions, however paradoxical such an opinion 
may at first sight appear, rather belong to weak¬ 
ness. Misfortune, which subdues the innermost 
seat of our strength—the mind—excites the 
passions in a powerful manner. The boy cries, 
raves, and wants to dash out his brains; while 
the maturer man, with earnest composure, di¬ 
rects a course of action against the future. 
Gentle passions shed light on the horizon of 
our existence, stimulate without exhausting, 
warm without consuming, and gradually fan 
the flame which burns in each one's breast 


92 


TEMPERAMENTS. 


into a steady light whose beams diffuse happi¬ 
ness around. They are the insignia of that 
true fortitude which never abandons the sceptre 
of mental dominion. 

Kant had, probably, similar ideas in view 
when he attempted to distinguish between 
bracing and relaxing affections. In reference 
to this point he makes a remark which is 
too beautiful to be passed over in silence. An 
observation of Saussure, that “ there reigns a 
certain insipid dreariness in the mountains of 
Bonhomme," awakened the following train of 
thought in his mind : “ Saussure/' he observes, 
“ is therefore acquainted with another and more 
interesting species of sadness, excited perhaps 
by the aspect of a solitude from which man 
has, by the force of his genius, reaped a 
living. There is, therefore, a species of sadness 
belonging to the bracing emotions, and which 
bears the same relation to a relaxing sadness 
as the sublime does to the beautiful." How 
deep and comprehensive is this remark I The 
pain felt by a noble mind, whether it arise from 
bereavement, and thus like 

“ The lightning’s flash 
Reveals what it destroys,” 


PASSIONS. 


93 


or from the petty cares which beset our weary 
existence in its eternal revolution about the 
vanity of this world, is never depressing; it is 
always a brave and elevating sentiment—a kind 
of suffering pride which alone overcomes the 
force of adversity. 

Nature has also expressed her will in the 
distinction of the sexes, ordaining that tender 
emotions should afford comfort to the gentler 
sex, while man finds his support in vigorous 
efforts of the mind. On this active and passive 
state of feeling depend the different internal 
relations of man and woman, whilst the world of 
thought is the same for both. These few hints 
may suffice. I have been brief, for my limits 
will not admit of full discussion. 

Is it necessary, on the other hand, to waste a 
word upon the effects of mental emotion on 
the body? Will any one assert that we can 
voluntarily produce the same violent shocks as 
those which impetuous affections often excite, 
even against our will ?* 


* History and personal experience furnish us with innu¬ 
merable examples. When the dumb son of Croesus saw the 
enemy’s sword raised above his father’s head, he suddenly 



94 


TEMPERAMENTS. 


Who is unacquainted with the sparkling eye. 
the full and quick pulse, the free respiration, 
the glowing colour, and serene brow of the joy¬ 
ous ? Who is not familiar with the trembling 
aspect, the stammering hesitation, the cold 
ruffled skin, the bristling hair, the palpitating 
heart, the uneasiness, the impeded respiration, 
the paleness, the low pulse, and all the other 
symptoms occasioned by fear ? With the slow, 
oppressed breathing, interrupted by sobs, the 


cried out, “ Man, slay not Croesus!” Another dumb person 
recovered his powers of speech, through anger, on seeing the 
woman whom he thought had bewitched him. Effects such 
as these are found but too often in the works of poets, too 
seldom in the practice of physicians. The psychological 
experiment of the Eastern physician, who cured an attack 
of paralysis by exciting shame, has not been repeated often 
enough. Nor need I allude to Boerhave’s well-known cure of 
epilepsy by means of fever, at the Harlem poor-house, as to 
the case which I have already recorded from the practice of 
Herz. Keeping in view the object of this work, I have only 
alluded to beneficial results; but examples of a contrary kind 
are still more numerous. The animal fluids are poisoned by 
anger ; sudden grief or joy has occasioned death; and those 
who are curious on this point will find abundant satisfaction 
from the numerous histories of this kind which Zimmermann 
has thought worthy of preservation in his work on this 
subject.—(See chap, xi.) 



PASSIONS. 


95 


cold, pallid, wrinkled skin, the slow tottering 
gait, and the weak pulse of the hopeless ? With 
the soft agitated blush of shame, or the pallor 
of contemptible envy? With the beaming 
countenance of requited love, or the yearning 
expression of disappointed affection ? With the 
spasmodic feeling of the throat and chest which 
accompanies jealousy? With the constricting 
pain which agitates the breast of the jealous 
man; the storm in the veins of the angry one, 
his inflamed countenance, his gasping breath, 
his beating pulses, wild countenance, and all 
the premonitory symptoms of apoplexy ? 

The German rhyme between the words 
schmerz (smart) and lierz (heart) is not a mere 
discovery of the poets; for the heart is sensibly 
affected by passion, which always commences 
its physical effects by disturbing the circula¬ 
tion of blood. Many physicians have noticed 
the injurious effects produced by disappointed 
hope; and have even supposed it specially to 
aid the access of pulmonary consumption. The 
extent to which remorse—the bitterest of all 
our feelings—depresses the victims whom it 
tortures should be seen by all persons as a 
warning. 


96 


TEMPERAMENTS. 


The effects of temperament and passion may 
be counteracted in three different ways, as I 
have already observed—by habit, by reason, and 
by the passions. 

The faculty of accustoming ourselves to any 
one thing is a beneficent arrangement of Provi¬ 
dence for securing the continuance of human 
life. Habit is the vital force which enables life 
to maintain itself, and slowly to assimilate foreign 
elements to itself. The essence of all morality 
consists in accustoming ourselves to what is right; 
and mental dietetics are based on the same prin¬ 
ciple. Reason never acts during a moment of 
emotion; but she enables us to prevent the 
occurrence of such moments by gradually sub¬ 
jecting each nascent inclination, each germ of 
passion to the control of habit. True repose is 
not an absence of, but a well-adjusted balance 
between all movements. 

I have already spoken of the manner in which 
the passions suppress one another. But they 
may also excite one another; the active arousing 
those which are active, and the passive those of 
a similar nature. Hence we have only to set 
in movement that particular passion in an indi¬ 
vidual which is most accordant with his present 


PASSIONS. 


97 


disposition ; by degrees the other strings will be 
touched, until the whole instrument of life is set 
in the key which permits him to evoke the 
proper song of his existence. For it is not 
silence but harmony which is required. And 
here, if I may be permitted to quote myself, 
I will close the present chapter with a few words 
which I wrote on a former occasion: “ Divine 
apathy and animal indifference are too often 
confounded together. The latter is the con¬ 
dition of the caterpillar, the former of the 
butterfly/' 

I do not believe I can confer a greater obliga¬ 
tion on my readers than by completing my own 
brief remarks on the passions, with the following 
chapter. It has been remodelled from an old 
treatise on the subject, which is probably now 
inaccessible to the general public. 


H 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


Si quid novisti rectius istis, 

Candidus imperti, si non, his utere mecum. 

Horace. 

Most writers on the affections seem to consider 
them not as natural movements obeying the 
universal law of all things, but as subjects 
beyond the domain of nature. Instead of study¬ 
ing man, they sneer, despise, or wonder at him. 

For my part, I would reason in the following 
manner. Nothing occurs in nature at which we 
can cavil, for she is always and everywhere the 
same, following one unchanging law. Hatred, 
anger, envy, &c., must therefore be governed 
by the same necessity as everything else. These 
affections depend on determinate causes, by 
means of which they may be understood and 
are endowed with determinate properties which 
are as worthy of our consideration as those of any 
other things which we delight to contemplate. 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


99 


We act when anything, of which we are the 
true cause, takes place either within or without 
ourselves; that is to say, whenever anything 
follows from our being which we can compre¬ 
hend by it. We suffer when anything takes 
place within us, of which we are only in part 
the true cause. Affections are things which 
affect our body in such a manner that its 
power of acting is either increased or diminished. 
When we are the true cause of such affections, 
they become action ; when not, they are suffer¬ 
ings. Thus the mind acts much, and suffers 
much—while true to itself and possessing clear 
ideas, it acts; when it errs, it suffers. From 
the preceding remarks it follows that the more 
the mind yields to passion the more it errs; and 
the more it adapts itself to truth the more 
active it will be. Joy is an affection which 
elevates the mind to a higher state of perfection. 
Sadness deprives the mind of its active force. 
Love is joy associated with the notion of an 
external cause; and hatred is nothing but sadness 
produced in the same manner. The resemblance 
of any object to another which formerly ex¬ 
cited joy or sorrow, will awaken feelings of 
love or hatred. The cause of these feelings 
H 2 


100 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


cannot always be clearly ascertained; but we 
term the affections sympathy and antipathy. 
The weakness of mind which disables man from 
controlling his affections, I call servility. The 
mind has abdicated its right of rule; and the 
man is compelled to follow the worse part, while 
he approves of the better. From the intimate 
connexion between body and mind, we are 
induced to conclude that the latter is thus 
thrown under the control of external nature, of 
which it forms a part. Let us then educate 
our minds to joy; since tears, and sighs, and 
fears, are symptoms of an enfeebled spirit, and 
obstacles both to virtue and to health. The 
more healthy the body the more readily will it 
furnish the mind with materials calculated to 
promote its development and increase its powers. 

I shall now endeavour to explain the nature 
of the joy to which I have alluded. We act 
according to reason when we do that which 
Nature enjoins. Now the nature of everything 
constantly strives to maintain its existence. 
A free man is not likely to make his own 
death the frequent subject of his thoughts ; and 
his wisdom will rather lead him to contemplate 
the continuance of life than its termination. An 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


101 


independent man, that is, one who lives accord¬ 
ing to reason, will not be ruled by fear; but 
will endeavour to maintain his existence by 
action. He endeavours to understand things as 
they are, and to remove whatever impedes true 
knowledge, as hatred, anger, envy, pride, &c., in 
order to pass his life in cheerfulness and activity. 

All our tendencies and impulses are derived 
from a natural necessity, and in such a way that 
they are only conceivable through it, as their 
immediate cause, or in so far as we regard our¬ 
selves as parts of nature, irrespective of all 
other individuals. Those impulses which thus 
depend on our being are related to the mind, 
in so far as its ideas are clear: but other 
impulses do not depend on the mind, except so 
far as it labours under erroneous impressions. 
The power of these latter cannot be regarded as 
human, since it arises from things independent 
of ourselves. Hence the one class are termed 
actions, and the other passions. The former, 
giving evidence of our strength, are always good; 
the latter, indicating our weakness or ignor¬ 
ance, are sometimes good, sometimes evil. Full 
cultivation of the reasoning power is there¬ 
fore most useful to life; and in this lies all 


102 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


human happiness, since happiness is nothing 
more than peace of mind, and springs from 
the contemplation of God. And cultivation of 
the mind is nothing more than learning to 
recognise God in the laws of his creation. The 
highest aim of man, and the means by which 
he must endeavour to control all other desires, 
is, therefore, that of learning to know himself 
and all things included within the sphere of his 
capacity. 

An affection ceases to be a passion as soon as 
we form a clear idea of it; for all passion is a 
distorted idea. Now, there is no affection of 
which a correct idea may not be formed. For 
we have a clear idea of that which we apprehend 
in connexion with the laws of the universe, and 
the sense of eternal justice. From hence we 
learn, first, how considerably man may dimi¬ 
nish those sufferings which arise from affec¬ 
tions; and secondly, that the actions and 
passions of men are derived from the same 
impulse. It is the nature of mortal man to 
desire that others should regulate their con¬ 
duct according to their own inclination. This 
desire may become a passion; we call it pre¬ 
sumption when uncontrolled by reason; but it 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


103 


is a virtuous sentiment, manifested by active 
efforts in those who live for their spiritual being. 
Thus all impulses are passions when they arise 
from distorted conceptions; and they are actions 
when admitting of clear recognition. 

To understand our affections, therefore, is the 
most elevated and effectual means of subduing 
them; at least we are unacquainted with any 
other, for the strength of our mind consists solely 
in the capacity of forming clear ideas. 

In proportion as our reason can comprehend 
the necessity of things, so will it control the 
passions more perfectly, and suffering be there¬ 
fore diminished. In proportion as every relation 
of life is understood in this view, so will our 
power of self-control be increased. Experience 
confirms this fact. Affliction for the loss of a 
beloved object is mitigated by the consciousness 
that nothing could have saved it. No one 
thinks of pitying an infant, because it is unable 
to walk or speak. But if the majority of men 
were born full grown adults, and a few only 
bom as children, then we should pity the latter, 
because infancy with its imperfections would 
appear to be an exception to Nature's laws, 
and not a natural necessity of our being. 


104 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


Until we attain a clear idea of our inclina¬ 
tions, the best line of conduct we can pursue is 
to act uprightly; and establish for ourselves 
certain rules, adapting them to the various con¬ 
ditions of our existence, so as to penetrate and 
purify our whole life. Among these rules, I 
would include the conviction that hatred may 
be subdued by love; and to impress this axiom 
more strongly on the mind, we should remem¬ 
ber the blessings conferred by love on the 
human race. We should reflect that men act 
from unalterable impulses; and above all, that 
in regulating our thoughts we should always 
fix our eyes on that which is good, so that 
a sentiment of joyfulness may excite us to 
active efforts in the race of life. If glory have 
attractions for you, then reflect on all that 
is noble and good in that passion, and on the 
means by which glory may be best acquired; 
but think not of its miseries and fleeting nature, 
for these belong to morbid trains of thought. 
Such sombre ideas disturb the mind of the 
ambitious whose plans have been defeated, and 
who endeavour to appear wise while they pour 
forth the bitterness of their spleen. It is certain 
that the very men who are constantly declaiming 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


105 


against the nothingness of fame, most ardently 
desire to attain it. In like manner the im¬ 
poverished miser complains of the misuse of 
money, and of the vices of the rich; the dis¬ 
appointed lover accuses the fickleness of the 
sex; while both only increase their misery by 
regret, evincing at once want of resignation, and 
envy of the happiness enjoyed by others. 

Nothing can overcome an affection except a 
stronger one. These latter are of the active 
kind, and depend on the mind. The more com¬ 
prehensive the mind is, and the more thoroughly 
it is enabled to refer all individual things to a 
single source, the more powerful will these affec¬ 
tions be. But the human mind has the power of 
referring the image of all things to the idea of 
the Godhead—the highest idea to which it can 
attain. Hence, the love of God is the purest, 
best, and strongest of all human affections. This 
love absorbs all other affections; it fills the 
mind in which it dwells with a clear light, and 
in naming it I have expressed all that can be 
said with reference to a proper control of 
the passions. This sentiment, however, is also 
founded on knowledge, like all other active 
qualities which spring from the same source. 


106 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


The more complete our knowledge of individual 
things, the nearer do we approach a knowledge 
of the Most High. From it is derived the most 
intense inward satisfaction that man can con¬ 
ceive. It is the joyousness of which I have 
already spoken. Love, as I said, is nothing but 
joy accompanied by a knowledge of the cause 
which produces it; but that joy which enables 
us to comprehend all things, since we perceive 
that God is their cause, must engender ever¬ 
lasting love. Invincible itself, it overcometh all 
things. 

We now clearly understand on what our 
whole salvation, happiness, and health depend— 
on a constant, unchanging love of God. Men 
follow another creed. They think themselves free 
when they obey their lusts; while submission 
to eternal laws is regarded by them as an 
abandoning of their rights. They are unaware 
that happiness is not the reward of love, but love 
itself; that we are not happy because we con¬ 
trol our passions, but that we control them 
because we are happy. 

I have now completed all that I proposed 
to say relative to freedom of mind and its power 
over the passions. We can now understand the 


THE AFFECTIONS. 


107 


superior efficacy of wisdom. The thoughtless 
man, tossed on a sea of troubles, never enjoys 
self-satisfaction ; he lives without a knowledge of 
God, of himself, of the world, and only ceases to 
suffer when he ceases to be. The wise man, on 
the contrary, ever mindful of God and of the 
eternal laws of necessity, is unmoved by storms 
and never ceases to be or to act. 

The road which I point out may seem steep 
and difficult; but those who seek shall find. Yea! 
truly that must be a difficult path which is so 
seldom trodden. Were the goal near to us, and 
easily reached, the competitors would be nume¬ 
rous ; but all that is noble is difficult and rarely 
attained. 


IX. 

OSCILLATION. 


I hailed my pain as the symbol of general vitality ; I seemed 
to feel and see the eternal conflict which creates and main¬ 
tains all things in this vast universe of endless force and 
endless strife.— F. Yon Schlegel. 

The life of man, like that of everything in 
nature, is made up of contrasts which succeed, 
accompany, and cause each other. The universe 
itself is governed by a law of equilibrium in 
which all these opposing forces are lost, even 
during their manifestation—an eternal pulsation 
of nature propelling life through the arteries 
of endless worlds. Even in the silent and re¬ 
gular course of vegetation—the tender offspring 
of peace and calm — Nature works after the 
same law, and conceals a profound contrast. She 
builds up the plant from joint to joint, in order, 
as it were, to concentrate her force, and act with 
renewed vigour from different points. We find 


OSCILLATION. 


109 


the same type ruling throughout all nature. In 
the sphere of creation there is no advantage 
without its deficiency, no gain without a loss, 
no rise without a fall, and no discord without 
its harmony. In the same manner the smaller 
sphere of human existence is marked by a con¬ 
stant alternation of tension and relaxation, of 
sleep and waking, of joy and sorrow—like the 
alternate inspirations and expirations of the 
vital air. Our existence is a perpetual circu¬ 
lation caused by such vibrations; and the more 
powerful the movement in one direction, the 
more forcible will necessarily be the opposite 
motion which it evokes. A natural philosopher 
has described these processes in the following 
manner. “ If a man walk too fast at one 
moment, he must walk with proportionate slow¬ 
ness during the succeeding one. Immoderate 
exercise must be followed by an equal degree 
of rest. He who crowds the labour of two 
days into one must pay the penalty by an 
extra day's inactivity. The greater our ex¬ 
citement while awake, the deeper and longer 
will be our sleep ; and the more we neglect to 
refresh the body with the necessary amount of 
sleep, the greater will be the lassitude and 
fatigue which we experience. The livelier a 


110 


OSCILLATION. 


feeling, the sooner it becomes extinguished. 
Violent desires are easily satisfied, and ex¬ 
cessive anger readily bums out. The wildest 
animals are the most susceptible of being tamed, 
and the fearful rage of the lion is capable of 
being exchanged for unexampled gentleness. 
The individual is resigned to ordinary life in pro¬ 
portion to his strength and freedom of action.” 

When the conflicting forces now spoken of 
succeed each other rapidly, forcibly, and in¬ 
creasingly, we can easily conceive that the vital 
principle must be worn away with proportionate 
rapidity. Should life incline permanently in 
the same direction, the alternation of action 
necessary for life is destroyed. Everything, 
therefore, depends on the proper management of 
these contrasts; and happy are they who can 
arouse their faculties from a death-like sleep by 
exciting within them a conflict which recalls 
their youthful energies; or they who can put 
an end to internal conflicts, and resume their 
equilibrium, by summoning to their aid fortitude 
and mental repose. One momentum may be in¬ 
creased or diminished by another, and herein lies 
the fundamental law of mental dietetics. But 
a man must learn to know and govern himself, 


OSCILLATION. 


Ill 


before he can understand this law, or apply it 
with advantage. We may bestow the greatest 
care on what we eat and drink; regulate exer¬ 
cise and rest; learn by heart whole treatises on 
the art of living long, or on the effect of feel¬ 
ing, will, and thought on the well-being of Man. 
More than this is necessary—we must learn to 
know and to govern ourselves; we must cultivate 
our moral and intellectual faculties; and then 
only shall we know what is meant by the term 
health—by the integrity of man. Let no one 
say to himself, “ I am incapable of such efforts 
as these/' To every reader of these lines has 
been given an inner life, on the existence of 
which all our necessities depend, and a mind 
which is, or may be rendered, capable of govern¬ 
ing the body—and every one can do what he 
should do. 

It is unnecessary to speak of the necessity of 
pleasure and relaxation after intervals of action 
and endurance; or of the impulse which leads 
us to satisfy such requirements. We have all 
experienced the gentle, yet irresistible power 
with which sleep closes the eyes after repeated 
exertions. The ardent student, toiling restlessly 
in the laborious pursuit of knowledge, should 


112 


OSCILLATION. 


never neglect this call of beneficent nature; 
for it can never with impunity be neglected. 
Had Mephistopheles conferred no other service 
on Faust than easing him for a while of his cloak 
of learning, the doctor would have had little cause 
for despair. But the act of awaking is regulated 
by different principles from those which govern 
the act of going to sleep. In the former case, the 
hand of force is often necessary. Life points out 
with an iron staff the path which each individual 
should follow. Happy is the man who sees this 
staff, and follows the path; instead of tarrying by 
the way until weary, and, incapable of further 
exertion, he sinks bleeding to the ground. A 
high degree of mental culture, or a delicate tact, 
possessed by few, are required to distinguish the 
necessity of earnestness, or even of pain, in the 
midst of enjoyment. “What is that mysterious 
power/' asks Salvandy, “ which always mingles 
some sorrow with our most exquisite pleasures; 
as if a man could not partake of the latter without 
being unfaithful to his mission in this life?" 
This remark applies to dietetics as well as to 
morality. Pain not only seasons, but is neces¬ 
sary to the existence of, a real living pleasure; 
just as the development and circuit of the day 


OSCILLATION. 


113 


could not occur without night. Nature never 
acts without a knowledge of what she does ; and 
gives us nothing without having seasoned it with 
love. True, she has given thorns to the rose; 
and he who would free us from all pain, would, 
at the same time, deprive us of every enjoyment. 
Annoyance is man's leaven—the element of 
movement, without which we should grow 
mouldy. Incurable depression of spirits is often 
dispelled by a slight annoyance arising from 
incidental causes. Wealthy and inactive persons, 
who have nothing left to wish for, are the earliest 
victims of hypochondriasis; and these are the 
very men whom thoughtless persons deem happy, 
because they appear to revel in the fulness 
of earthly enjoyments. But a strong, though 
hidden impulse urges them incessantly to tor¬ 
ment themselves, while they vainly endeavour 
to supply those wants which pleasure alone 
cannot satisfy. The wise man, on the contrary, 
forestals those feelings, and seeks the dark 
shadows which inevitably cross our path in the 
weary pilgrimage of life. Gloom and obscurity 
are inseparable from all the different phases of 
human existence. Temptation lowers over the 
dazzling meridian of fortune as well as over the 
I 


114 


OSCILLATION. 


night of sorrow. He who has learned to recog¬ 
nise this truth will venerate the goodness of 
Providence, instead of vainly pondering on the 
origin of evil; and not only listen to the warning 
voice of suffering amidst the intoxication of joy, 
but even endeavour to draw it forth from the 
innermost recesses of his being. This is the 
highest principle in the art of life—the summit 
of mental dietetics. It is most difficult to reach, 
but he who mounts to the top will be most amply 
rewarded. 

When the present work first appeared, this 
chapter was received with much opposition, even 
by those who most entered into the spirit of the 
other portions. “ Whence come the charm and 
benefit of a southern climate V inquired a highly- 
gifted woman, in reference to this subject, “ if 
not from its being an emblem of eternal 
spring ? Or what clearer idea can we form of 
a better state of existence than this constant 
serenity ? Is it not a sad, ascetic view, to regard 
pain and evil as necessary concomitants of life ; 
or to suppose man ordained to perpetual sorrow ? 
No, no ; we are here to be happy and rejoice— 
to diffuse over the earth what is good and beau¬ 
tiful. Such is the destination of man, unless we 


OSCILLATION. 


115 


believe life to be a dream. All the fair aspira¬ 
tions of a noble soul must be realized at some 
period, if they be the promises of a loving 
Deity, not the mockery of a demon/' With what 
pleasure have I listened to these plausible argu¬ 
ments of a pure and virtuous mind; and who 
would not allow himself to be seduced by a 
dream, without which life is a dreary waste ? 
But we awake from the dream, and discover that 
we must be, and act in the world which is —for¬ 
getting the lovely vision for a while, that it may 
re-appear more true and enduring in another 
world. 

Desire and presentiment have been given 
to man to elevate him to higher things, not to 
lower him to earthly realities. They ought only 
to indicate, and not to annihilate by fulfilment, 
like the significant Greek fable of Semele and 
the divinity who appeared to her in accordance 
with her urgent prayers. The holiest duty of 
man is to cultivate that which is exalted—not to 
debase it by too great familiarity. There is only 
one Sabbath for every week. If we contem¬ 
plate life through our perceptions and not 
through our desires, we shall soon learn to 
accept things as they are, and shall be content 
I 2 


116 


OSCILLATION. 


to leave the pure and cloudless sky of the 
east to those who can paint with strong light 
untempered by shadow. If the world allotted 
to us were more perfect, then would our organi¬ 
zation have been likewise more perfect; but 
in the actual state of man, sorrow is the con¬ 
dition of pleasure, and suffering is the deep- 
seated root of life and activity. And who is 
the more likely to attain perfection—he whose 
heart is filled with unsatisfied desires, or he 
whose understanding is guided by the realities 
of life? The object of mental dietetics is to 
attain a state of contented enjoyment; and this 
being so, I may ask, are we not far more likely 
to gain our end by living with calm resignation 
in the present world, than by longing after a 
different one ? Let us, then, hold fast to esta¬ 
blished doctrines, and admit the well-known 
axioms of Count Yeri, that life consists in acti¬ 
vity ; that the feeling of an impediment to this 
activity is pain ; that the feeling of its promotion 
is pleasure. No such furtherance can be effected 
without the pre-existence of some impediment, 
however trifling. Pleasure, therefore, pre-supposes 
a condition of suffering. When we attempt to 
elevate our vital activity above its normal pro- 


OSCILLATION. 


117 


portion we create an impediment. Health, 
therefore, consists in this proper proportion. 
On studying with attention our own nature 
we become conscious of a perpetual impulse to 
change our condition in life. Present pleasure 
cannot be this impulse; and hence it becomes 
evident that man lives in a constant state of 
suffering, which is the spur of human activity. 
In the lot of man we find nothing lasting except 
pain and sorrow. Pleasure is not positive enjoy¬ 
ment, but merely an alleviation of suffering. 

These views may appear gloomy, but really 
they are not so. They are a faithful reflection of 
life—a marvellous elucidation of human destiny. 
The profound conceptions which they reveal 
deserve to be followed through all their ramifi¬ 
cations; for they disclose to him who pursues 
their course, the secrets of the moral as well as 
the natural world. The laws of nature show that 
they are subservient to a still higher law. The 
blending together of pain and pleasure in the 
labyrinth of human existence is — to speak 
humanly—a symbol of the divine purpose. Suf¬ 
fering is necessary for the formation of character 
—pleasure, for cultivation of the mind. Man 
individually, mankind collectively, should ripen 


118 


OSCILLATION. 


in both respects. The object of all man's efforts 
should be, not to gratify his desires, but to fulfil 
his duties; for in the latter lies all true gratifi¬ 
cation. The tasteless monotony of gratified 
desires teaches the thoughtless through satiety 
—although too late—to value exertion ; and the 
same insatiable desire, which neither heaven nor 
earth can satisfy, leads the fool to despair, and 
the sensible man to contentment. 

The whole life of man would be a weary void 
—a blank—a nothing—without the eternal thorn 
which urges him to write down in the sweat of 
his brow that he suffers; in other words, that 
he fives. Happiness consists in this proclama¬ 
tion. Let him, then, announce it in words, 
acts, and joys; for these are the interludes of his 
sufferings. We have no other idea of happi¬ 
ness ; suffice it if this can render us happy. 
If the apparent value of fife be diminished by 
this view—which assuredly will not present 
itself to the mind of youth, and is already known 
to the undeceived man—it will gain in true im¬ 
portance. Happiness is uncertain and evanes¬ 
cent; but duty is certain and everlasting. Pro¬ 
vidence instituted suffering as a means of creating 
consolation; and it is this painful contrast in our 


OSCILLATION. 


119 


nature which affords confirmation of our higher 
destiny. No smile is sweeter than the one 
which struggles for mastery with the still 
trickling tear ; no desire is more noble or more 
lasting than an insatiable one ; no man enjoys 
more truly than he who renounces the gratifica¬ 
tion of his desires; and thus the truest symbol 
of human life will ever be a cross encircled 
with roses. 

The practical object of the present work 
—to advise a course of action—compels me, 
with regret, to interrupt a line of considerations 
which might prove rich in information to him 
who with earnestness examines the tangled web 
of human life. 

Having established the existence of opposite 
elements in the nature of man, it remains for me 
to consider the alternations which take place in 
all the circles of our action or suffering; and the 
balance that exists amid these various oscillations, 
in order to turn the law, when discovered, to 
our profit. 

Pleasure and pain are expressions of man's 
tenderest sphere—the perceptive. The same 
holds good of the less delicate rest and move¬ 
ment. Activity causes and constitutes life; but 


120 


OSCILLATION. 


too intense or prolonged activity may prove 
fatal to its harmony, and must, therefore, be 
moderated. The same law prevails in the most, 
material sphere of human organization, where 
we find that contentment and moderation pre¬ 
serve a due equilibrium between the alternate 
maintenance and expenditure of our forces. Even 
in the highest circle of human activity — that 
of thought — the same oscillation is indispen¬ 
sably necessary. The most profound thinkers 
on the nature of thought are forced to adopt 
this conclusion, and to admit, as an intelligent 
woman once observed in reference to poets, 
that man's well-being consists in an alterna¬ 
tion between consciousness and unconsciousness. 
None but a pedant would attempt to submit such 
an equilibrium to scholastic rules, or, manual in 
hand, to meet every fleeting moment of this 
changeful life with a dogmatic order of “ thus 
far and no farther." We cannot advance or 
retard the life of man like the hands of a watch. 
By no act of consciousness can we escape con¬ 
sciousness itself; but we can excite or yield to 
certain dispositions within ourselves. A sensi¬ 
ble, yet half-involuntary contemplation of life in 
a pleasing point of view is most favourable to 


OSCILLATION. 


121 


the growth of contentment and health; it 
keeps up a wholesome medium between con¬ 
centrated attention and relaxation; occupies 
while it calms us; and never suffers observation 
of ourselves to be carried to morbid anxiety, 
but constantly associates it with that of the 
external world. This is a condition which the 
cultivated man alone, alive to the tenderer per¬ 
ceptions of our nature, can experience. Words 
explain it with difficulty; because all mental con¬ 
ditions are more or less mysterious. The reflec¬ 
tive Schelver has named it life's holy instinct, 
and describes it in his usual poetic manner. 
“ Let man consult his own experience to learn 
when and where he enjoyed perfect felicity. Was 
it not, when, unconsciously carried forward by 
the wheel of life, he was floating in a state 
of conscious existence ? The man who scarcely 
belongs to himself is lost in the bliss of living. 
He enjoys without knowing what he enjoys; 
and the only feeling he is conscious of is the 
calm emotion of the heart which compre- 
hendeth not itself. His actions spring from his 
mind, like flowers and fruits from the tough 
wood. They are not, as many imagine, the re¬ 
sults of premeditation; but the natural easy v 


122 


OSCILLATION. 


simple, and ordinary, manifestations in which 
alone he finds his happiness. When a man 
attempts to seize passing objects with hasty 
eagerness, he must abandon those already in 
his possession. It is an error to seize on that 
which he should receive. All is there, and 
nothing is wanting, save that all should be 
for him. Let him but calmly gather what 
lies in his path, and the gates of the world will 
open before him. Hence the child is gifted 
with so expansive a memory, that it can pass 
over the universe of things without fixing on a 
single object. Hence remembrance and satis¬ 
faction return to the heart of the adult, when 
the powerful influence of the will has been 
moderated. Man finds refuge in the holy in¬ 
stinct of his life from the conflict of desires and 
wants, and his sole care should be to preserve it.” 

We are now prepared to admit that the 
highest aim of the art of living well, and con¬ 
sequently of mental regimen, must be to un¬ 
derstand ourselves aright without a painful ob¬ 
servance of our feelings; to maintain a cheerful 
interest in all things around and within us; to 
let all things act on us, yet learn how to assimi¬ 
late their action; and, amidst all changes, to 


OSCILLATION. 


123 


remain ourselves unchanged. He who has 
attained this knowledge is all in all things to 
himself—teacher, friend, opponent, protector, 
physician ! All life works in pulses. Our pro¬ 
gression is a constant falling, from right to left, 
and the reverse; and in like manner the har¬ 
monious progress of existence consists in an 
admirable balance of alternating oppositions, 
varying in each individual, but more readily 
learned by the exercise of our powers than by 
reflection. 

From the preceding observations it follows 
that when man attains that state in which he is 
unconscious of the existence of any single organ, 
but feels that the free manifestation of his active 
powers is the general expression of his being, 
then is he completely sound and perfect. 
When we feel that we have a heart or a 
stomach, we maybe sure that some derange¬ 
ment exists in those organs; whereas, health 
consists in our not feeling any one part of the 
organization more than another. The succeed¬ 
ing chapter will afford an opportunity of testing 
these fruits of experience by a melancholy 
phenomenon. 


X. 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


Little tlyngs are the curse of life. We are consumed by 
wretched cares for the present day—for our bodily wants. 
Nourish therefore the godlike part of our nature—the im¬ 
pulse of admiration ! —Bulwer. 


A treatise on mental dietetics would be im¬ 
perfect without some special notice of that most 
irrational and melancholy of all human tor¬ 
ments, hypochondriasis. Reason, morality, wit, 
and even religion, have endeavoured by every 
possible means to exorcise this demon. By 
pamphlets and by books—in tragedy and in 
comedy — from the pulpit and on the stage, 
it has been denounced and ridiculed. All in 
vain; for this foster-brother of care creeps 
in through the keyhole, and waps himself so 
closely in the mantle of prudence that few are 
tempted to repel him. But shall not we strive 
to strip his mantle from him—we who have 
suffered like others from his blood-stained grasp? 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


125 


We have accused him of egoism; hut this 
affects him not, for he has become fashionable, 
and knows that selfishness passes for wit and 
independence of mind. Our best plan will be to 
prove that he is nothing; and that I shall now 
endeavour to do in the most earnest manner. 

“ When men begin to reflect on their physical 
and moral condition,” once observed a venerable 
authority over Wieland's grave, “ they are 
generally ill. The common malady of all men 
is life.” This gives a perfect idea of the species 
of hypochondriasis to which I now refer, and 
which is specially connected with mental die¬ 
tetics. There is another species, but that one 
must be left in the hands of the physician. It 
is not enough to say that the form of which I 
treat is an imaginary disease. We have quite 
enough of reality without invoking the ima¬ 
gination. The health of all men in this world 
is only relative; each one contains within 
himself the germ of which he is ultimately to 
die. It may be discovered without much diffi¬ 
culty, but the discovery will only accelerate its 
development. So long as we are well enough to 
do our daily work, and, that work over, to enjoy 
the pleasures of repose, it is our duty, both in a 


126 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


social and dietetic point of view, to think no 
more about our bodies. Pain is an arrogant 
nothing, which becomes something as soon as 
we acknowledge its existence. Shame on us, 
then, if we honour, fondle, and cherish it, until 
it envelopes us in its growth. It is only great so 
long as we are small. Who can imagine a 
Themistocles or a Regulus feeling his own pulse, 
or examining his tongue in the glass ? Nay, I 
would go still further: I would endeavour to 
expel the evil by that very fear whence it derives 
its origin. Does fear augment or diminish the 
malady? Nothing in the world makes a man 
sooner old than the constant fear of becoming so. 

Many centuries ago the Persian sage Attar 
proclaimed that five things shortened the life of 
man. The first is to know want in old age; 
the second is protracted disease; the third is 
wandering exile ; the fourth is constant thought 
of the grave; the fifth is the approach of the 
angel of death. The last cause here assigned 
is equivalent to fear; and can hypochondriasis 
exist without fear? Does not its victim die 
daily from the fear of dying? These are the 
weak-minded persons, of whom I remarked, 
in a former chapter, that even the physician 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


127 


whom they constantly seek must despise them. 
These men become volunteers in the ranks of 
medicine; they overload their minds with 
whole courses of physic; they copy prescrip¬ 
tions from printed formulae; and it was to one 
of this class that Marcus Herz once wittily re¬ 
marked, “ My dear friend, an error of the press 
will assuredly, some day or other, be the death 
of you.’" These are the ciphers whom the divine 
Plato banished from his republic. To him they 
were well known, and how could it be other¬ 
wise? How could such men fail to exist in 
Athens—the Paris or London of antiquity ? 
“Is it not disgraceful,” exclaims his Socrates 
Silenos, “that men should have recourse to 
the healing art, not for wounds or inevitable 
diseases, but for conditions caused by their 
own indolence or luxury, and for which the 
learned descendants of Aesculapius must first 
invent names? When a carpenter falls ill 
he seeks a doctor, and demands to be cured 
by the most active means. But if the phy¬ 
sician ordain a thousand petty restrictions 
and precautions, he tells him at once that he 
has no time to be sick, and cannot occupy his 
mind with thoughts about illness to the neglect 


128 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


of his work. He bids his doctor farewell, 
returns home, resumes his daily occupation, and 
is restored to health. But if his vital force be 
too far reduced to overcome the disease, be¬ 
takes leave of life, and is freed from a miserable 
existence. So much for the carpenter; and why 
should he who has a higher calling cherish less 
noble feelings ? There is nothing in this world 
which so completely hinders a man from making 
a proper claim on life as this excessive care of 
his body. . It impedes the due performance of 
domestic duties, cripples the efficiency of the 
warrior, and the usefulness of the citizen. It 
incapacitates us from the pursuit of all arts and 
sciences; checks thoughfrand reflection, by a con¬ 
stant brooding over self-engendered evils; and 
prevents a man from being either wise or good. 
iEsculapius cured heroes of their wounds ; but 
we nowhere read that he employed tedious 
methods of treatment to secure a long and 
miserable existence to those wretched beings 
who are always complaining of indisposition, 
and beget another generation as degenerate 
and miserable as themselves. In the case of 
men debilitated by excess or natural con¬ 
formation, he did not regard a prolonged life 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


129 


as a benefit either to themselves or their fellow- 
citizens; nor was his art designed for such, even 
were they as rich as Croesus.” 

Although this mode of viewing the subject 
may appear rather antiquated to us who are 
the children of a very differently constituted 
world, it still contains much from which we 
may derive instruction. The clear-minded men 
of former times considered one species of hypo¬ 
chondriasis—of which we are not speaking—as 
a disease, and referred it to the physician for 
treatment; but they, like us, considered that 
form of which I now speak as a nothing. 
Kant, one of the clearest and most sensible of 
men, who had himself been perplexed by this 
Nothing , proceeds, after the manner of a true 
German philosopher, to annihilate whatever 
obstructs his path, and declares all men devoid 
of sense who would convert this species into a 
reality. “ When a man is troubled with fancies 
let him ask himself whether they have any real 
object. If he can find none, or if he discover 
that the causes of uneasiness under which he 
labours are inevitable, let him arrange his feel¬ 
ings accordingly—in other,words, let him cast 
away his anxiety as if it in no way con- 
K 


130 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


cerned him, and direct his attentions to those 
occupations in which he is concerned/’ These 
precepts I cordially adopt, and I know, more¬ 
over, that the Aristotle of Koenigsberg applied 
them in practice. The struggle was great, for his 
desponding feelings were connected with nar¬ 
rowness of the chest, impeding the free action of 
the lungs; yet he lived to an advanced age. Lich- 
tenberg, the most intellectual of all humorists, 
and the most whimsical of all intellectual men, 
conceived a similar idea of hypochondriasis. 
“ There are,” says he, “ serious diseases of which 
men may die; there are others, not fatal in 
themselves, but readily observed and felt; and 
lastly, there are some complaints which it would 
almost require a microscope to discover. But 
these latter are all the more horrible on that 
account; and the microscope, which reveals them 
to us, is hypochondriasis. Were men to study 
all their complaints by means of the same in¬ 
strument, they would have the satisfaction of 
being ill every day of their lives.” Pulmonary 
consumption forms a frequent subject of hypo¬ 
chondriacal delusion; and this is, in great mea¬ 
sure, owing to the sentimental descriptions 
which novel writers give of the disease. More 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


131 


than half a century ago Weikard described a 
peculiar form of mental delusion, under the name 
of “ Imaginary consumption/' The consump¬ 
tive patient coughs; but every one who coughs 
has not got consumption. The same remark 
applies to all other forms and symptoms of 
disease. The physician alone is able to decide 
on their character or signification; to the unini¬ 
tiated they are nothing. 

The only means of rescuing ourselves from 
this nothing is constantly to deny it. A 
denied nonentity becomes an entity, and there 
is no other entity except activity—the purest, 
the only true enjoyment of living beings. As 
the form of hypochondriasm now alluded to is 
not a disease, it may be annihilated by disease. 
As Leichtenberg's brother genius correctly ob 
serves, “Make the hypochondriac ill, that he 
may know what illness really is, and you cure 
him. Leave the hypochondriac to be hypo¬ 
chondriacal, for otherwise he will not know what 
to do with himself/' In whatever light we may 
regard this morbid condition—whether as weak¬ 
ness, imagination, laziness, stupidity, selfishness, 
disease, or incipient madness—and it is all these, 
or even more than these, for its name is legion, 
K 2 


132 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


and it comes from the prince of evil—still ac¬ 
tivity will ever be the angel who guards with 
flaming sword the entrance to that paradise in¬ 
habited by those who remain true to Nature and 
their duties. Best is neither due nor profitable 
until it is needed. As those hypocondriacs who 
want nothing (or whom nothing torments) neither 
excite nor require compassion, I do not see why 
they should not be pronounced rude and unsocial, 
as they really are, and expelled from society 
under this badge of their disgrace. Such treat¬ 
ment might, perhaps, contribute to their cure, 
and end the matter more speedily than any phi¬ 
losophical discussion. Let them, then, undergo 
torture for their own good ; since, if society ever 
had the right of inflicting torture, it is surely 
here. Does not the poet say— 

“ Der hypochonder ist bald currit, 

Wenn dich das Leben recht cujonirt.”* 

Hypochondriasis cannot exist when the regimen 
of the mind is directed by the rules already - 
laid down in a former part of this work Show 

* These untranslatable lines signify— 

“ Hypochondriasis is soon cured 
When life curries it well down.” 



HYPOCHONDKIASIS. 


133 


me, if you can, a man who, wrapped in gentle 
thoughts, advances with steady purpose along 
the path of life ; whose eye is fixed with clear¬ 
ness on the world around him; whose forces, 
actions, and enjoyments are harmoniously fused 
together. Show pie, if you can, a man thus 
soundly constituted, who is at the same time 
hypochondriacal? I cannot he more explicit 
on this subject, without exposing myself to re¬ 
petition ; yet this oft-discussed nothing , this 
dissatisfaction with everything, this type of our 
age, presents so many important points for con¬ 
sideration, that I feel myself forced not to 
spare it. 

The species of hypochondriasis now alluded 
to is specially promoted by three dispositions 
of the mind—viz., selfishness, indolence, and 
pedantry. I have already examined the influ¬ 
ence of the two former; but the latter is too 
often overlooked in the intercourse of life, being 
often attributed to those who are free from it, 
and the least sought where it might be the most 
readily found. Pedantry does not consist in an 
attention to order and punctuality, which we 
can hardly conceive to exist in excess, but in 
that spirit of littleness which neglects the 


134 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


end for the means, and is a slave to self- 
created or conventional idols. The placid 
student, who neglects the world for the better 
society of his books, and may, perhaps, have 
forgotten the more polished usages of life, is not 
a pedant; although he is a pedant who sacrifices 
to the conventional accessories of literature 
that world of thought which ought to be re¬ 
presented, and not displaced by the words of 
the book; who esteems a particular edition of 
Aristotle more than his precepts; and who vene¬ 
rates for their antiquity the records of bygone 
times rather than the spirit they breathe, or the 
objects which they unconsciously promote. The 
most absurd of all pedants, though probably the 
least disposed to believe himself so, is the 
drawing-room fop, whose atmosphere is fashion, 
and all the petty forms which an erroneous 
idea of the means conducive to agreeable social 
intercourse has converted into independent 
objects. To him the trifles of life are realities, 
and the realities of life trifles. 

And here I would direct attention to the 
motto of the present chapter, in order to illus¬ 
trate the form of pedantry to which I now refer. 
What can be more petty than to squander away 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


135 


one's better existence in unceasing complaints 
about our bodily ailments ? We might justly de¬ 
nominate hypochondriasis the vanity of health ; 
for this insane and whimsical self-delusion hurries 
its victim towards a spiritual death as rapidly as it 
strives, in childish terror, to flee from the phan¬ 
tom of bodily death, which ever flits before it. 
But hypochondriasis delights in its own weak¬ 
ness; and, in this age of polished nothingness, has 
even contrived to set up an idol in which it seeks 
palliation and a source of self-glorification. Let 
us examine these pretensions. 

Much has been said and written on the 
melancholy of distinguished men. The Sta- 
girite's observation “that men of noble and 
reflective minds are generally disposed to 
sadness," would seem to have some foundation. 
Camoens and Tasso, Young and Lord Byron, 
pass before us shrouded in ideal gloom. The 
hypochondriasis of the two former has been 
represented for our edification on the stage; and 
we affect to sympathize with the afflictions of the 
latter. Great men must be allowed to explain 
the nature and origin of their failings; but 
with regard to modern poetry I must hazard 
a few observations. 


136 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


Here we have not to do with great men, but 
with morbid conditions ; and to speak the plain 
truth, the nurse of modern literature is a morose, 
debilitating, and mawkish spirit of hypochon¬ 
driasis. To correct the tribe of our younger 
poets we shall soon require the aid of a physi¬ 
cian, not of a critic. Their history may be told 
in a few words. A young man educated, or 
rather mis-educated, without experience, without 
study, without any definite tendency, without 
the power of exertion, or of tasting any genuine 
enjoyment, becomes conscious of his miserable 
oscillation between existence and non-exifetence 
—between not having lived and not being about 
to live—between a barren past and a barren 
future. He now takes to novel reading, fre¬ 
quents the theatres, compares himself to heroes 
or poets, and makes verses. All on a sudden 
the thought flashes across his mind that his 
unhappy condition is connected with the unfilled 
profundity of his feelings—with an unsatisfied 
yearning of the soul. He rushes headlong into' 
the ocean of melancholy, and indulges in ex¬ 
pressions with which the poetic springs of latter 
years have inundated us; he bathes in these 
waters, and contemplates his own image re- 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


137 


fleeted from their surface. Camoens and Byron 
are the companions of his sorrows, his suffer¬ 
ings are of course more interesting, and will 
he hopes live as a second edition of theirs. His 
youth is thus wasted, and life, with its reali¬ 
ties, now encompasses him. Other waves, far 
different from those of his fancy, now threaten to 
engulph him, and his misery becomes complete. 
Ignorant of the world and of himself he looks in 
vain for help or solace to the delusive structures 
of his poetic dreams; and he falls to the ground, 
crushed beneath their ruins. Such is the fate 
of the ungifted;—that of genuine poetic talent is, 
perchance, worse. Here the mind loses itself 
in the fearful abyss of its own essence; the poet, 
while he believes that he poetises, only fosters 
his hypochondriasis; and at last he engenders 
the mortal disease of internal discord, which the 
would-be poet only feigned. Poets of this class 
naturally carry their readers with them; and 
as now-a-days the public is everybody, and 
everybody must talk about literary subjects, it 
behoves us to direct attention to these sources 
of literary interest if we would save a part of 
our fellow men from the miseries of hypochon¬ 
driasis. We cannot, perhaps, convince the soi- 


138 


HYPOCHONDRIASIS. 


disant Youngs and Byrons of the present day 
that they have anything more to learn ; but as 
mental dietetists we must leave them to their 
lamentations. May they profit by chewing the 
mournful cud of their own inefficiency! As for 
ourselves, we hold steadfastly on to life, seeking 
to inspire ourselves with courage, not with 
despair. Hippel, however, says, “ The man who 
has learned to read, has lost one portion of his 
courage; if he writes verses, he has lost a double 
portion.” 

I have already enumerated reading among 
the means by which health of mind and body 
may be preserved; but book-knowledge is far 
inferior as a curative agent in hypochondriasis to 
two other means which I shall consider in a new 
chapter, leaving my readers, in the meantime, 
to discover how the egg may be made to stand 
on one end. 


XI. 


NATURE.—TRUTH 

Abominable cowards ! Why are you afraid to be yourselves ? 
you were thus a thousand times better. Without being 
natural, we have neither grace nor unction—nothing firm, 
nor imposing.— Necker. 


The sovereign cure for all human ills, and there¬ 
fore the best means for preventing these evils 
are Truth and Nature. 

We could not, even if we would, enjoy a state 
of existence perfectly free and pure ; for an im¬ 
mense or universal net of falsehood, from which 
there is no escape, encompasses us on all sides, 
—the falsehood of social intercourse, an external 
bondage which we cannot evade, but which 
sometimes inspires us with respect. It is an 
inconceivable folly to add to the above another 
self-imposed restraint; which gradually but 
inevitably undermines our health, and of which 
we are all more or less guilty. 


140 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


All morality consists in truth, and all depravity 
in falsehood. Life and health accompany the 
former; the latter is destruction. Constant 
falsehood and painful self-restraint corrode 
the innermost springs of life, like a hidden 
poison ; while we ourselves experience a morbid 
pleasure in feeding the worm which destroys 
us. Never has this art flourished so highly as 
at the present day; and the extent to which we 
pride ourselves on our weakness—like the city 
beauty on her pale cheeks—is only paralleled 
by our vanity, which regards refinement—a 
complication of untruths—as evincing the height 
of development. Thus the incurable patient 
often rejoices in the cessation of pain, because he 
is ignorant of the fact that he has ceased to suffer 
since he has ceased to feel; hope and satis¬ 
faction beam on his countenance, augmenting 
an hundredfold the grief of his surrounding 
friends, who are aware of his true condition. 
This is a faithful image of the world. No one 
has the courage to be what he really is. Yet the 
corner-stone of health is to maintain our indi¬ 
viduality intact from every constricting influence. 

All thinking men have recognised this evil, 
and directed the attention of their brethren to 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


141 


it. “Your salvation depends on truth; be true 
at every breath;" and what they say to the 
species, the physician enjoins to the individual. 
To play a part throughout life must weary us 
out before our time; even if we could exclaim 
as justly as Augustus, in the closing scene, 
“ Plaudite.” Hufeland has compared this con¬ 
dition of the mind to a continual mental con¬ 
vulsion—a slow nervous fever. Why, then, sub¬ 
mit to it ? Is it not more easy to be true ?— 
to appear what we are ? To man I would say, 
“there is no strength without truth; and to 
woman, there is no beauty without truth. 

I have a discovery to reveal as easy and as 
difficult as that of Columbus and his egg : it is 
this; that genius is nothing but truth. That 
writer will appear original to us who, instead of 
consulting books on his subject, replies with 
truth to the questions he asks himself. In this 
manner he writes what the learned will read 
with envious surprise, and with a freshness 
which even poets might covet. It is certain that 
we should be better authors by being more moral 
and true. At present we are nothing, because we 
are false, and therefore diseased. Shame and re¬ 
pentance are the enervating consequences which 


142 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


await us on our course. Yet we might avoid 
this fatal tendency by assuming courage enough 
not to belie ourselves or others—by daring to be 
what we really are. Can any happiness equal 
the feeling that we carry our own bliss constantly 
with us ? Always and everywhere will thought 
then furnish food for self-communion, imagina¬ 
tion create a world of fancies, and life give 
scope to feeling, or to the promptings of a pure 
will. 

If it be asked “ what can save us from the 
falsehood which lies around us?” I answer— 
the pleasure derived from the study of nature— 
the enjoyment and study of which furnish us 
with the ether that generates and feeds the 
best and deepest parts of our nature. When 
the tender plant, which we call intellect, fades 
and decays in the hot-house of society, transplant 
it to some lonely solitude. It will there revive. 
The most inveterate epicurean that perhaps ever 
lived, after having drained to the dregs the cup 
of every enjoyment, was forced to admit “that 
the sweetest joys are those which leave the peace 
of the mind undisturbed.” When I reflect on 
the source whence this axiom came, it appears 
to me a most remarkable one. And to what joys 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


143 


does this votary of pleasure refer? I know of only 
two—contemplation of mind, and the study of 
Nature. The earnest thinker feels himself ele¬ 
vated to the recognition of deep and mysterious 
truths, when he reflects that the beauty and 
grandeur of nature necessarily expand and exalt 
his soul, in revealing themselves to his invigo¬ 
rated senses. Let men say what they will in 
praise of society. The most they can say of it is 
that it teaches us to know our duty; but from 
solitude alone can we derive happiness. The 
eye which loses itself in the boundless azure of 
the firmament, or delights in contemplating the 
variegated beauties which Nature, with lavish 
hand, has scattered over the face of the earth, 
is turned aside from the turmoils which disturb 
and entangle the busy throng of men. Nature 
is ever sublime; and the thoughts inspired by 
her works expand so as to become imbued with 
her greatness. 

The contemplation of Nature teaches man that 
he is but an atom of one stupendous whole; and 
even in contemplating infinity, he rejoices in his 
own being, which enables him to appreciate the 
harmony of the universe. The eternal laws of 
Nature teach us justice; even in destruction she 


144 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


manifests her love; and with her alone dwell 
truth, peace, and love. 

“ Solitary communion with Nature”—says a 
highly gifted woman—“exerts a magical effect; 
it brings us nearer to what we love, and removes 
us from what we hate. All those minds who 
have bequeathed to their fellow men the fruits 
of their communings with solitude, have been 
inspired with similar feelings—confessing, as a 
celebrated physician did, that the name of 
Nature excites the same feeling of veneration as 
that which causes us to bow the knee when 
they name the Almighty within the sanctuary of 
his temple.” 

That Lessing had no feeling for the beauties 
of Nature is a mistake which arose from a good- 
humoured paradox of his, with which we some¬ 
times endeavour to get rid of a stupid fellow. 
Most of the learned men who have attained a 
great and cheerful old age were students of nature. 
It would seem as if a genuine and fruitful study of 
Nature required a childlike mind, such as those 
of Howard and Novalis; while on the other hand 
it communicates a childlike simplicity which 
carries them back to the days of their youth. 
Every effort of the mind, in fact, is an inquiry 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


145 


into Nature; and we can only retain mental 
health and happiness by treating all things 
which surround us or dwell within us, in ac¬ 
cordance with the laws of Nature. We shall then 
find that just as night and day succeed each 
other and constantly alternate, so also does our 
inner life pursue its course with unvarying regu¬ 
larity ; and we shall find with joy that our ap¬ 
preciation of Nature's harmony is merely an 
expression of that harmony itself of which our 
minds form a part. It is for the recognition of 
this truth that Nature has implanted the senti¬ 
ment of her beauties in the breast of the savage 
and the child ; it was to this truth that the con¬ 
templation of the universe led the mind of 
Newton ; and thus is fulfilled the first and last 
aim of the Creator—that the creature should learn 
his place, and find happiness in it. How great 
is the comfort produced by such considera¬ 
tions; how soothing the balsam which they 
diffuse in a stream of holy vigour throughout 
our whole being ! The man who has never 
felt such enjoyment may consider these remarks 
as empty words; but he who will seek to expe¬ 
rience it will soon appreciate why we have placed 
the contemplation of Nature at the head of 
L 


146 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


our system of mental dietetics. Every man is 
an Antseus : if we hold only fast to mother-earth 
with love and faith, we shall receive from her 
animation and invincible strength. Nature con¬ 
firms and enforces the individual capacities of 
each; she excites no passion, but rather ren¬ 
ders contemptible those various passions which 
give rise to all diseases of the mind. Nature 
educates gently, surely, and steadily; and what 
is mental regimen but second education ? 

Communion with Nature bestows all the 
strength which, in a former part of this work, 
I endeavoured to prove necessary for the 
healthy action of the powers of the mind. 
Nature acts on the whole man by addressing 
herself to all his organs—filling imagination 
with grand and refreshing images—restraining 
the will with adamantine chains, yet giving to 
it firmness and consistency. Her significant 
silence developes him. The grand but simple 
operations of her universal laws serve to culti¬ 
vate his mind, and fill it with animating 
thoughts ; in the constant circle of her unvary¬ 
ing course all things maintain us in fitting 
equilibrium. Her beauties, scattered with pro¬ 
digal love on all sides, through the maze of 
animated worlds—blooming in humble flowers, 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


147 


or shining in starry orbs of light—dispel from 
the brow the clouds of petty care or narrow¬ 
minded hypochondriasis. Her stupendous great¬ 
ness oarries man beyond himself, until all his 
feelings, thoughts, and desires, merge in a gene¬ 
ral contemplation, which leads him gently into 
the arms of Religion, the understanding and 
vital perception of which are the last, and the 
highest good to which he can attain. 

Having thus enforced the benefit to be de¬ 
rived from a contemplation of Nature, I may 
close my remarks on this subject. May the 
chord which has been struck in the sensitive 
spirit awaken within us kindred tones; and 
being ever repeated in alternate succession, 
may they shed beauty and holiness over the 
monotony of life. 

And here, again, we clearly perceive how all 
moral and intellectual efforts, how philosophy, 
morality, art, social education, and mental die¬ 
tetics, all tend, either voluntarily, or involun¬ 
tarily, to one sole object. 

But, in looking to this final result, we must 
ever keep in view the individual—cultivating our 
own narrow, individual domain, with the same 
care that the husbandman tills his small, but 
L 2 


148 


NATURE—TRUTH. 


fertile farm ; for the efforts of each must ever be 
limited to his own part, and to that only. For 
the separate spheres will all finally merge into 
one general movement and harmony, and will 
thus combine to complete the idea of an universe. 

“ In singulis et minimis salus mundi.” 

I should only revolve, like the spheres now 
alluded to, were I to follow up these con¬ 
siderations to their full extent. I therefore 
prefer inviting my readers to extend their 
consideration of the subject of the present 
chapter by the aid of a work which seems the 
production of nature, truth, and religion com¬ 
bined ;—I allude to the self-contemplations of 
Marcus Aurelius. 

We shall afterwards combine the practical 
results of our studies in a few short maxims, the 
half of which would suffice for the lifetime of 
both author and reader. 


XII. 


RESUME. 


Be thy own master, and be of good heart in good in well as in 
evil days.— Marc. Aurelius, i. 15. 

Reflections on the connexion between mind 
and body must be not only idle, but actually 
dangerous, unless pursued with a view of 
arriving at practical results, and moreover we 
really attain them. It may, therefore, be 
pleasing and profitable to my readers if I take 
a brief retrospect of the various stages through 
which we have passed; and embody the prin¬ 
ciples which I have inculcated, in the form of 
maxims. Here, however, I should add a 
remark which could hardly find a place at the 
commencement of my work. 

To direct the body by the force of the mind, 
man must first believe that he possesses the 
power to do so. This faith is indispensable. I 


150 


RESUME. 


shall leave to theorists the task of demonstrating 
how this mysterious influence may be explained; 
to me it seems more practical to prove its pos¬ 
sibility by its reality. Many additional examples 
might be adduced to confirm this truth; but I 
shall content myself with a few illustrations. 

Mead relates the case of a woman who re¬ 
covered from a tedious illness—abdominal 
dropsy combined with marasmus—by fixing her 
mind on a particular object. This was no 
imaginary evil, but a positive, material disease. 
He likewise gives another example, that of a 
patient, in an advanced stage of consumption, 
who dissipated the most alarming symptoms 
by reflecting on her past life, although it was 
rather calculated to afford cause for everlasting 
remorse. Couring was cured of tertian ague 
by the pleasure which he derived from con¬ 
versing with Meibomius — an extraordinary 
triumph of mental power which would scarcely 
be so readily attained in our more practical age. 
And although it must be admitted that most 
of these cases are the results of accident, 
that is to say, not directly traceable to human 
foresight, yet Herz, in his excellent treatise on 


RESUME. 


151 


vertigo, brings forward several examples in which 
success attended the scientific application of the 
principle. And here I cannot avoid alluding to 
a case related by Dr. Cheyne, for it fully demon¬ 
strates the influence of mind over life and death. 
Colonel Townshend had the power, subservient 
to volition, of lying down on his back and ap¬ 
pearing to be perfectly dead. The pulse gra¬ 
dually sunk until it became imperceptible ; a 
looking-glass held before the patient's mouth 
remained undimmed by the faintest trace of 
breath, and Dr. Cheyne believed that the jest 
had ended in reality. After the lapse of about 
half an hour the pulsation of the heart and 
radial artery began to be perceptible, and 
Colonel Townshend soon afterwards conversed 
in his usual manner with his medical attendant. 

But I must, instead of accumulating examples, 
proceed with my recapitulation. 

When man has arrived at faith in the power 
of the mind over the body, he must regard 
himself objectively. This is a more difficult 
task than we might suppose. Constant attention 
to our own bodily health only torments us or 
renders us absurd ; while on the other hand 


152 


RESUME. 


no one can obtain the necessary mastery over 
himself without taking heed of his own being. 
Here we require a keen and cheerful self¬ 
inspection—a healthy tone of humorous self¬ 
satire, which is the climax of artistic develop¬ 
ment, the essence of genuine philosophy, and 
the noble fruit of a moral life. 

When we examine ourselves according to the 
impulses of our active nature, and not in ac¬ 
cordance with some idle fancy, such as people 
sometimes call a system or a science, we shall 
find that we possess a faculty whence impres¬ 
sions and sensations are derived—a faculty to 
will ,—and a faculty to think These attributes 
have been examined, I trust, with some fruit. 
Their study has taught us to direct imagination 
to that which is beautiful and cheerful—to 
nourish our feelings with the grand and encou¬ 
raging—and to cultivate both by promoting a 
sympathy with art. It has taught us to 
strengthen, purify, and ennoble the will, to 
direct it upon ourselves, and to regulate it by 
the dictates of a true and sound morality. 

Self-government is the great and eternal law 
which life, duty, and mental dietetics enjoin upon 
man. They ordain him to carry out with truth 


RESUME. 


153 


and resolution the silent mandates of his con¬ 
science. To preserve health of mind, and hence 
of body, we must resolve on governing our¬ 
selves ; and remain through life true to this 
resolve. Hesitation or backsliding may occa¬ 
sionally occur; but a repetition of the resolve 
will gradually strengthen the power of volition, 
and at last win a certain victory. Let every 
one, then, make this moral vow, without reserva¬ 
tion, or right of appeal. Let him oppose to irre¬ 
solution this new and self-created /. Let him 
oppose to distraction,—that unhappy division 
of the soul—concentration ; and meet ill-humour 
with firm resolution. Let the child of habit 
tear himself from this nurse; and those who 
are the play of the movement inure themselves 
to acting from a sense of duty. Let us strive to 
develop the power of our thoughts—to direct 
the understanding towards ourselves. What 
was self-government in the will, here becomes 
self-knowledge. Let us cultivate this side of 
our mental faculties by studying the genuine 
science of life and thus learn to comprehend 
by its fruits the divine character of knowledge, 
and of harmonious cultivation. The highest 
knowledge, by teaching us to incorporate the 


154 


RESUME. 


idea of the individual with that of the universe, 
leads us to religion, from which we derive that 
perfect self-renunciation which alone can impart 
the lasting cheerfulness necessary to produce 
health. None hut those who are of little account 
in their own eyes can attain to greatness. Let 
all, then, pray devoutly for a “ pure heart and 
great thoughts/' Peace within and without is 
the first, the most indispensable remedy for all 
the evils of this life, both internal and external. 
In most cases it effects a sovereign cure—in 
others it is useful as an accessory; in all it is 
invaluable as a means of prevention. This 
peace, which is the child of the mind, is more 
readily obtained from a study of Nature than 
from any other science. Considered in a dietetic 
point of view, Nature is a safer school than 
history; for the latter is often dangerous to 
those of tender feelings, and may excite painful 
impressions or impassioned impulses. We should 
always endeavour to balance the individual tern- 
perament by some counteracting impulse—pre¬ 
senting intellectual labour to the active, and 
practical realities to those who are suffering. 

We must not kill our passions. Their de¬ 
struction would involve that of the mysterious 


RESUME. 


155 


germ and essence of all the springs of life and 
health. We must rather learn to counteract, to 
moderate and to govern them by, and through 
themselves. Active passions must be held under 
control; the more negative must be cultivated. 
Courage — Cheerfulness — Hope — these three 
stars should form a constellation, ever before our 
eyes. We must educate ourselves through the 
agency of our respective inclinations. It is 
through them that God educates us; and what 
is the aim of mental dietetics but the educa¬ 
tion of the body through the agency of the 
mind? 

This mental condition will be promoted by an 
alternation of impressions conformable to the 
laws which govern the oscillations of our exist¬ 
ence, and which constitute the fundamental 
principles of mental dietetics. The wise man 
knows how to repress or to excite by turns joy 
and sorrow, tension and relaxation, meditation 
and folly, as the painter knows how to handle 
his colours; and he who has made such progress 
in this art of self-treatment as to have ventured, 
at certain times to invoke the Eumenides of 
gravity, of painful reminiscence, or of care, 
will seldom taste the poison of inward sickness. 


156 


RESUME. 


This would seem a fitting place to notice the 
influence which the alternating course of days 
and hours—such as morning, noon and evening 
—exercises on the condition of the body, and 
what corresponding treatment it calls for in 
mental dietetics. But I must content myself 
with these general remarks. To the victim of 
hypochondriasis I have but this advice to give. 
Turn your clouded sight from the narrow sphere 
of your own miserable tortured self, to the bound¬ 
less theatre of suffering or rejoicing humanity; 
forget your own miseries in sympathy with your 
fellow men; or, at least deserve the sympathy 
of others. 

These are holy duties, which the great move¬ 
ments of the present day render incumbent 
on us all; and they are more easy of ful¬ 
filment than the blase egoist, or the slave of 
habit can conceive. As a highly gifted poet and 
physician observes, “ Do we not feel ourselves 
when we feel for others V In the glory of ever- 
renovating and ever-living Nature, the unhappy 
will find the consolation vouchsafed and prepared 
for all human beings; and in the conflicting maze 
of characters and destinies will he discover the 
place he was destined to fill. After this dis- 


RESUME. 


157 


covery nothing remains for him but to be and 
remain what his being prompts him to be— 
pure and truthful as the incorruptible word of 
God. Health is nothing but beauty, morality 
and truth. 

I have now arrived at the point from whence 
I started. May the same animating feelings of 
confidence and conviction which have filled my 
heart while writing these pages, he as a blessing 
to those who desire, by self-improvement, to 
qualify themselves for carrying out their destiny 
upon earth, and to prepare themselves for the 
felicity of a future life. 








PASSAGES FROM A DIARY. 


Condo et compono, quse mox depromere possim. 

Horace. 















PASSAGES FEOM A DIAKY. 


Poems, novels, and plays have a manifest 
advantage over didactic works. They do not 
weary by systematic discussions, but stimu¬ 
late the reader to think for himself on the 
problems which they present to him. In the 
preceding pages I may have been tiresome; in 
the following I trust to attain some of the ad¬ 
vantages which I have ascribed to the poet or 
novelist. Aphorisms are more calculated to 
stimulate than to satisfy—to excite than to 
give knowledge. 


I. 

To the observant mind life presents on all 
sides tasks to be executed, problems to be solved. 
Works of merit and men of experience accom¬ 
plish one and the same result. We should seek 




162 


PASSAGES FROM 


everywhere for the sources of rest and strength. 
Whatever we thus select, appropriate, and assi¬ 
milate to ourselves, is as much our property as 
anything of which we may believe ourselves 
the authors. 

II. 

No one invents anything. While man thinks, 
he merely gives activity to the one law of thought 
which is inherent in him, and in all others. An 
atmosphere of truth surrounds him, and to this 
he only returns what he has drawn from it— 
earpiring and mspiring knowledge. 

in. 

Goethe's remark, “ That an excessively tender 
conscience, overrating its own importance, may 
induce hypochondriasis, unless counterbalanced 
by great activity," is both important and sug¬ 
gestive in reference to the present subject. 

IV. 

So likewise is the observation of another 
German author — “We cannot maintain body 
and mind in perfect health, unless we learn 
from youth upwards to take part in the ordinary 
occupations of our fellow-men.’' 


A DIARY. 


163 


V. 

It is necessary to maintain a balance in all 
things both within and without us. Content¬ 
ment produces this equilibrium in matters con¬ 
nected with animal existence; alternate activity 
and repose, in things connected with our irrita¬ 
bility; and pleasure, in reference to our sensa¬ 
tions. This is our law. 


The possession of a vigorous understanding 
and of a moral character will alone enable us to 
maintain calmness of mind in moments of excite¬ 
ment. This is a species of Archimedean point 
from which we exercise the active power of 
contemplation; where thought and being be¬ 
come united—an union constituting the true 
happiness of man. 

VII. 

Passion would always be suitable if it were 
always commensurable. 

VIII. 

I have often observed myself with attention, 
and found that even when the head is most 
M 2 


164 


PASSAGES FROM 


bewildered, thought remains pure and free, like 
some force which has retired unscathed to its 
stronghold before the enemy. A field for action 
was all that was wanting. It could not, as it 
were, be perceived. 

IX. 

Some thoughts are heating; some are cooling. 
They do not bear the same relation as glad and 
mournful thoughts, for both may be either. 

x. 

Doubt, the most fearful of all feelings, is 
put to flight by despair, which often proves its 
best remedy. 

XL 

There are moments—blissful moments—during 
which we may exclaim, “ The body has lost all 
consciousness of self in its subordination to the 
mind. The free current of our powers flows 
like a sea between a visible and an invisible 
land.” 

Happy, in body and mind, is he to whom 
such moments are granted; happy the man 
who can invoke them at will, and can moderate 
their intensity by reflection. 


A DIARY. 


165 


Nature heals the wounds she inflicts. But 
when man injures himself, can he expect that 
she should flatter him with sympathy, as the 
mother does her spoiled child ? 

The calm of the universe—the meandering 
stream—the still forest—the blue sky—the 
general harmony of Nature's eternal beauty— 
are not these sufficient to pour oil into your 
wounded spirit ? 

Is it not more noble, more conformable with 
Nature's laws, to merge our small individual 
discord in her harmonious unison, than to spoil 
the latter by it. 

XII. 

The art of prolonging life? No. Kather 
teach him who knows what life is, the art of 
enduring it. 

XIII. 

The whole secret of prolonging life consists 
in not shortening it. 

XIV. 

To turn activity to proper account we must 
bear three points in view. 

1. It must be methodical—without rest, but 
without haste. 


166 


PASSAGES FROM 


2. It must choose the fitting object, at the 
fitting time—not “ invitd Minerva ” 

3. It must act alternately by repose and by a 
change of objects; for our minds are so consti¬ 
tuted that a change of objects brings nearly as 
much relief as actual repose. 

xv. 

Shall we select enjoyment, repose, or toil? 

Let invigorating activity properly alternate 
with the pleasure which follows it. 

XVI. 

It is easy to perceive that those views of life 
which deify pleasure, are less likely to yield it 
than those which do not so highly estimate enjoy¬ 
ment. The former infallibly render life weary; 
the latter cure us of this weariness. 

. XVII. 

Compassion affords no benefit to persons who 
are right-minded; it only weakens them. Duty 
is the upright man's true consolation. 

A longing for the infinite, is a misconception 
of the finite. To lament our not being under- 


A DIARY. 


167 


stood by others, is to misunderstand the aim of 
humanity, which is not external. 

XVIII. 

Mental sufferings are too often penances— 
the natural fruits of our not being faithful to 
Nature. 

XIX. 

When men of cultivated understandings 
neglect mental activity, they are misled by the 
theory that life receives and maintains its vi¬ 
tality from without. The life of man has been 
converted into an abstract nonentity, which a 
certain medical school terms irritability. But 
life acts from within, not from without. “Mens 
agitat molem” 

xx. 

The acts of assimilation and excretion, of in¬ 
spiration and expiration, which are necessary 
for bodily life, should be mentally repeated. 
Systole and diastole are equally necessary to 
the health of spiritual existence. We dilate 
our whole being; we learn, act, and enjoy ; we 
pass beyond our own sphere ; but the eternal 
pulsations of destiny drive us back, and compel 


168 


PASSAGES FKOM 


us to concentrate our forces on a single point 
from which they may again diffuse. Constant 
expansion will destroy any power by excessive 
attenuation; constant contraction will destroy 
it by rendering it torpid. 

XXI. 

The interest we feel in life is derived from 
constant observation, constant thought, and con¬ 
stant instruction. These ever maintain within 
our life, currents which prevent it from putre¬ 
fying. And it may be said, as of love and 
error, that they who cease to strive, or cease to 
learn, may as well cease to live. 

XXII. 

“Oh, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown !” 

What deep and chastened sorrow is expressed 
in these words ? Abnegation seems to struggle 
with the eternal, and to be unable to contain 
itself. No sorrow is more frequent at the pre¬ 
sent day than this. Oh! that all good and 
gentle natures would learn to fortify themselves 
with that material hardness which is so necessary 
in our struggle with the powers of this world. 


A DIARY. 


169 


XXIII. 

Patience has been granted as a shield to 
gentleness. Impatience often prepares the 
downfal of strength. 

XXIV. 

Patience,—thou earnest sister of hope—bene¬ 
ficent balm of the mind—wondrous force of 
the will, which consisteth in not willing ! thou 
art ever acting through suffering. What unfor¬ 
tunate has not, in blissful moments, experienced 
thy magic ? The paroxysm of fever flies before 
thy presence ; but returns with redoubled force 
when thou hast forsaken the bed of sickness. 
Thou canst assuage the keenest suffering and 
accelerate the most tedious cure. Thou alone 
art strong in thy weakness; thou, the most 
complete, the most gentle, the most beauteous 
manifestation of mind as a healing agent. 

XXV. 

Hypochondriasis is egoism. Poets, accus¬ 
tomed as they are to explore the recesses of 
their own hearts—to analyze their own feelings, 
and to regard themselves as the centre of the 


170 


PASSAGES FROM 


universe, are most subject to the attacks of this 
demon. 

I knew one of these nobly but unhappily 
gifted beings, who could obtain no rest from his 
torments save by the study of history, and by 
sympathy with the general world. He would 
have been cured had he commenced in time. 

XXVI. 

The fearful germ of insanity slumbers in every 
man's mind. Watch and strive with all cheerful 
activity that it awake not from its slumber. 

XXVII. 

Scepticism—the sombre, petty scepticism of 
the worldling is weakness. The feeble retreat 
before difficulties which the bold encounter and 
overcome by faith. Half-informed dabblers in 
medicine are generally sceptics. 

XXVIII. 

Apathy is not desirable. We should rather 
excite and foster pure and noble passions. Cul¬ 
tivate the beautiful. The virtue and health of 
man are nourished by beauty. 


A DIARY. 


171 


XXIX. 

An active performance of our duties is the 
mother of a pure conscience. The latter, again, 
is the parent of peace; and in peace alone can 
flourish the tender flower of earthly happiness. 


XXX. 

It is less necessary to keep the understanding 
always clear (and who can do so?) than to pre¬ 
serve a steady frame of mind, and know how to 
elevate it when about to sink. 

XXXI. 

Knowledge gives a disposition, and destroys 
a disposition/' 

XXXII. 

Precipitate men should accustom themselves 
to write and walk slowly. The irresolute should 
endeavour to perform their acts with rapidity. 
The gloomy romantic dreamer should be trained 
to walk with head erect, to look others straight 
in the face, to speak in a loud, distinct tone 
of voice. It may seem incredible; but I can 
affirm from personal experience that such habits 
exercise a great influence both on mind and 
body. 


172 


PASSAGES FROM 


XXXIII. 

It is not enough to contemplate ourselves 
objectively; we must also treat ourselves in the 
same way. 

XXXIV. 

Seek those habits which give thee strength; 
which develope thy vital activity. Avoid as 
poisons those which leave behind them debility 
and emptiness. 

XXXV. 

Kegard sufferings as if given to prove us 
the fairest and most fruitful anthropomorphism. 
They strengthen us and render us moral. 

XXXVI. 

Nature has allotted to man a decisive and 
absorbing activity; to woman a passive life. 
But neither can be pursued to excess without 
danger. 

XXXVII. 

Books are spectacles through which we con¬ 
template the world. They are necessary for weak 
eyes; but the sight is better maintained by 
looking at life without such assistance. 


A DIARY. 


173 


XXX VIII. 

We require a robust morality, not a morbid 
sentimentality. 

XXXIX. 

What we strongly hope for is accomplished. 
A bold, yet a comforting, statement. 


XL. 

Sorrow springs from within and undermines 
the human frame. Vexation which arises from 
without, most readily restores the disturbed 
balance. 

XLI. 

If we can concentrate the attention on any 
given point, either by friendly conversation, 
reading, or through memory, or duty, the bitter 
stings of internal sorrow and external pain will 
be removed. This occurs with the greater cer¬ 
tainty in cases where such a direction of the 
mind is effected through the agency of others, 
and unconsciously to ourselves. 


XLII. 

“Profound thought," says Heppel, “accus¬ 
toms the mind to a species of existence which is 


174 


PASSAGES FROM 


external to the body. It thus prepares for it a 
way to that wider field of action which is des¬ 
tined for all mankind/' 

XLIII. 

Abstraction and distraction avail nothing. 
The best and only way of abstracting the mind 
from one object is to fix it upon another. 

XLIV. 

We can only afford negative proof of any¬ 
thing by giving positive proof of something else. 
This law is of great importance with respect not 
only to mental dietetics, but to life in general. 
Whatever is vulgar, bad, false, or uncomely, can 
be negatived in no other way than by demon¬ 
strating the noble, the good, the true and the 
beautiful. It is a fatal error to regard the former 
qualities as actual existences, and to combat them 
as such. We must regard them as nonentities, 
and substitute some reality in their place. 

XLV. 

A moderate optimism—such as would result 
from a true philosophy of life—appertains to the 
science of mental dietetics. The man dissatis- 


A DIARY. 


175 


fied with the world will be so with himself, so 
as to be continually eaten up by his own ill- 
humour. And in such a state of mind how can 
he retain health ? 

XLYI. 

We have all, at one time or another, experi¬ 
enced some unexpected blessing. Remember 
this when thou art disposed to despair of the 
future. Memory will then become, as the poet 
says, “ the nurse of hope/' 

XLVII. 

We should treat ourselves as Reil did his 
patients,—the incurable lost life, but never 
hope. 

XLVIII. 

The power of maintaining the life of the 
individual against the influence of the universal, 
depends on energy; and all the energy which 
we can give to ourselves depends on education. 
There are several varieties of energy—the inert 
(vis inertice )—the unyielding—the quiet—the 
firm—the obstinate—the impulsive—the suffer¬ 
ing—the gentle—the impetuous—the cheerful 


176 


PASSAGES FKOM 


—and others which unite in themselves many of 
these criteria. 

XLIX. 

The distinct faculties of the mind, as reason, 
volition, imagination, &c., differ in character 
from energy. Considered as a general expres¬ 
sion, energy is limited to the aggregate result 
of these, and to that inborn individual force of 
the living being with the origin of which we are 
unacquainted. 

L. 

Neither these precepts nor our duty to others 
can prevent men from, sometimes being “ out of 
tune.” The strings of the violin are occasionally 
deranged by atmospheric and other changes. 
This is inevitable. It may be difficult to play 
well on such an instrument; yet the virtuoso 
succeeds until string after string loses its har¬ 
monious tone, and all at length are mute. 


LI. 

We cannot avoid moodiness; but we may 
turn to account, as does the poet, the various 
dispositions of the mind—or give them form 
and shape, as the sculptor his marble. 


A DIARY. 


177 


LII. 

Taken in this point of view, we should permit 
such dispositions unconsciously to pursue their 
course. Whether they bring joy or sorrow, 
they belong to the twilight of our condi¬ 
tion. “ There are/' as Rahel says, “ parentheses 
in our own lives which give us a freedom that 
would never be conceded in more lucid mo¬ 
ments. Would any one desire to infect himself 
with a nervous fever? Yet it may save life. 
But it comes on spontaneously/' 

LIII. 

I lately experienced, in a most forcible manner 
how disposition may be influenced, as by daylight. 
I awoke from sleep without knowing the hour. 
My night-lamp appeared to be burning with unu¬ 
sual brightness. The solemn, gloomy thoughts 
which usually occupy my mind at night, now 
returned, and rendered sleep impossible. The 
clock struck five, and I perceived that I had mis¬ 
taken bright daylight for the shining of my lamp: 
my whole frame of mind became changed in an 
instant. The objects which, a moment before, 
oppressed me, now stood forth in cheerful colours 
N 


178 


PASSAGES FROM 


and revived courage within my breast. I felt 
the change like a shock in my brain. 

Emotions are like the glowing rays of the 
setting sun ; or like coloured glasses, through 
which we see the world in false and magical 
beauty. 

LIV. 

“ I hardly know, but I think I should be less 
frightened by this transparent stream, than by 
the black poison before me.” So exclaims a 
girl on the stage, who is about to poison herself, 
while looking on a river. She gives us an 
useful lesson; for we determine things by the 
colour which we impute to them. 


LY. 

Man's life has its dawn ; then comes daylight, 
when lamps are no longer wanted. Every one 
worthy of the name of man passed through 
this period of inner birth when consciousness 
commenced. But to count every spoke in the 
wheels of the machine is contrary to nature 
We are not only made up of brain, but of heart 
and hand. When the eye has fastened on its 
object, the body requires no afterthought for its 


A DIARY. 


179 


movement. The flower blooms and the fruit 
ripens unconsciously. 

LVI. 

Idleness is the fundamental error of man. It 
undermines his well-being in a thousand ways. 
In the refined it is disguised in a gloomy, scepti¬ 
cal view of life, which we may typically denomi¬ 
nate Hamletism. It is a renunciation of 
oneself—a voluntary disease and death. Health 
and life are the fruits of self-awakening. 

LVII. 

If reason were all-powerful, we should not 
have possessed the faculties of feeling and 
imagination. 

LVIII. 

Body and mind are steeled and hardened by 
alternations of heat and cold—of joy and sorrow. 
Thus Nature and Poetry educate their noblest 
children by purifying them. 

LIX. 

Knowledge lends no interest to life;—it rather 
discloses its nothingness. Imagination and 
feeling excite sympathy for its passing events, and 

N 2 


180 


PASSAGES FROM 


thus yield happiness. Hence art is a healthier 
effort than philosophy. 

LX. 

An idea cannot satisfy, stimulate, or tran¬ 
quillize man. This is only effected by that 
indescribable sentiment which is best under¬ 
stood through its effects on other things—best 
learnt and exerted through itself. 

It has been well remarked of the poems of 
Hafiz that their refreshing influence does not 
depend so much on the sense of the words, as 
on the tone of mind produced in the reader. 

LXI. 

Nothing protects us better from the fearful 
spectre of old age, and from that ossification of 
our being which announces or accompanies it, 
than a cheerful tone of scepticism; one not re¬ 
lating to eternal truths, but to oneself. Perpe¬ 
tual youth arises from a continued avoidance of 
a one-sided view of self. 

LXII. 

A good man should always have some good 
work in hand—some task requiring the joint 


A DIARY. 


181 


application of all Ms powers. Life is a more or 
less powerful effort: while every act of relaxa¬ 
tion is a sickness—a death. 

LXIII. 

Composition, even when we have no idea of 
appearing in print, is an excellent dietetic tonic. 
In these civilized times almost every one may 
indulge in it. 

The best and quickest mode of banishing a 
painful impression, or a torturing feeling, is to 
give it expression in words. We thus relieve 
the mind from present, and fortify it against 
future pangs. 

LXIV. 

That philosophy which devotes itself to a con¬ 
templation of death is a false one. True philo¬ 
sophy is a living wisdom, for which there is no 
death. 

LXV. 

True happiness and genuine virtue are based 
upon self-guidance. 

LXVI. 

Self-contemplation of our mental and bodily 
condition must teach every one that his senti- 


182 


PASSAGES FROM 


ments are rather regulated by his impressions 
than the latter by the former. 

LXVI I. 

Passion is actual suffering—a well-regulated 
life true activity; for in the one case our inner 
being suffers, while in the other it works. 
The more activity becomes habit—an element 
of ourselves—the more will it protect us from 
suffering. Suffering depresses; action elevates; 
exaltation animates. The partial or complete 
absence of excitement brings disease, and death. 

LXYIII. 

The latest periods of life are influenced by the 
errors of our earliest years. The same may be 
said of early acquired advantages. 

T,XTX 

I must will; I will must. He who has learned 
to comprehend the one, and practice the other, 
has mastered the whole science of mental die¬ 
tetics. 

LXX- 

To preserve or improve health we must learn 
how to analyze all actions and conditions. 


A DIARY. 


183 


Solitude is profitable ; but we must not seek to 
be alone in society. 

LXXI. 

What strength would arise from combining 
the rapid action of youth with the maturity of 
advanced life! Endeavour to preserve the 
former; and as the latter must arrive of itself, 
the time draws nigh when your wish will be 
accomplished. 

LXXII. 

When a man strives with all his power for a 
certain object he will attain it. For desire is 
only an expression of that which is conformable 
to our being. To him who knocks it shall be 
opened. We find daily examples of adventurers 
who have striven for wealth or fame, and gained 
them. Why should it be otherwise for health? 

LXXIII. 

We must repress, at an early period, the 
freshness and youthful ardour of our feelings, to 
revive them when subsequently strengthened by 
prudence and experience. 

lxxiv. 

If trials afflict or threaten, remember that 


184 


PASSAGES FROM 


you cannot escape them by flight. Look stead¬ 
fastly upon them, and decide whether they 
should be disregarded or turned to account. 
You must master an object before you attempt 
to despise it. When a difficulty is turned aside 
it is certain to return with increased force. The 
spectres of the night are only dissipated by the 
light of day. 

LXXV. 

The will cannot act in a decided manner 
without cultivation ; but it must not gain the 
ascendancy over us. While self-cultivation is as 
yet incomplete, we ought to be capable of pro¬ 
moting our own good by arousing the general 
energy. Intelligence is a higher faculty than 
volition; for the latter requires cultivation to 
fulfil its commission. 

LXXYLI 

“ But I cannot will, without having some¬ 
thing to will, and I must first know what this 
something is/' Granted—but this knowledge 
does not require understanding. We know what 
we will—in a general sense—though we know 
it but too seldom in a strict sense. The idea 
cannot exist without experience; but experience 


A DIARY. 


185 


may be attained before, and therefore without 
any idea. 

LXXVII. 

There can be no consciousness of an internal 
void, since such a state is a nonentity. This 
void, however, often becomes condensed; and 
then it is felt This sensation is a commence¬ 
ment of cure; for an effort to remove it becomes 
a necessity. 

LXXVIII. 

Persons rolling in boundless wealth who 
do not understand the great art of enjoying 
life richly, and have no ennobling pursuits, 
succumb under the weight of their enjoyments 
or desires. They pine in vain for some object 
which may be capable of sufficiently resisting 
their powers. 

LXXIX. 

As there is a point in the eye insensible to 
light, so there is a dark point in the mind which 
envelops the germ of all that may undermine 
us from within. All depends on our circum¬ 
scribing this point by cheerfulness and morality 
so, that it shalL become invisible. If allowed to ^ 
exceed its limits, it expands, until the mind is 


186 


PASSAGES FROM 


overcast with shadows, and the night of insanity- 
closes over the wretched sufferer. 

LXXX. 

The mind has, also, its bright point—a hidden 
sanctuary of clearness and serenity whither no 
storms or nightly shadows can penetrate. Here 
should he our resting-place—our home. Its 
preservation and enlargement should be a con¬ 
stant object of our care. Even insanity, 
—according to Jean Paul—cannot erase this 
bright spot from the mind. 

LXXXI. 

It has never been determined with what de¬ 
gree of mental disturbance insanity commences. 

LXXXII. 

Power has been often confounded with 
feeling. At the present day the latter is culti¬ 
vated to excess; while the former, which contains 
the germ of health, is suffered to lie fallow. 
We have a feeling for all things—strength for 
nothing. 

LXXXIII. 

Human existence will ever have its discordant 


A DIARY. 


187 


notes. They make themselves heard in spite of 
all reasoning to the contrary. It is more pru¬ 
dent to recognise them, and to enjoy those bright 
hours when, either in action or in love, we anti- 
cipate an harmonious unison. 

LXXXIV. 

Man may gradually master every condition, 
either by his reason or by assimilation;—just as 
the economy may become accustomed to poisons. 

LXXXV. 

Memory grows under the shadow of reflec¬ 
tion. An object becomes indifferent when we 
speak of it constantly ; for the desire of medi¬ 
tating on it in solitude is thus prevented. 

LXXXVI. 

An healthy condition is best maintained by 
an adequate appreciation and cultivation of the 
advantages appertaining to the several periods 
of life. Freshness and vigorous impulse belong 
to youth; wise moderation to manhood; calm 
reflection to old age. Dilatory consideration is 
as injurious to the young as unseasonable impe¬ 
tuosity to the grey-headed. Kind Nature allots 


188 


PASSAGES FROM 


a fitting fruit and flower to every season of 
life. 

LXXXVII. 

Constant attention to the host of neglected 
but ever-recurring pleasures which every hour 
brings with it, is also profitable. 

How many agreeable emotions, the recollec¬ 
tion of which would be a permanent pleasure, 
are allowed to pass unheeded every day ! Gentle, 
intellectual persons have often expressed this 
sentiment. With Jean Paul we should learn to 
weigh every success—every realized wish. With 
Goethe, to sing the praise of nature, whose 
every pulsation inspires new life. With Holder- 
lin, to bless the privilege of enjoying the light 
of the sun. With Hippel, to accept each recur¬ 
ring day as an unmerited favour. 

LXXXVIII. 

A pure and noble selfishness is necessary for 
health and cheerfulness. That man is to be 
pitied who does not labour, love, and live for his 
own love and gratitude. We seldom derive any 
pure enjoyment from external objects. All 
man's actions bear their own fruits—and that 
without fail—be they good or evil. * 


A DIARY. 


J89 


LXXXIX. 

Mental happiness is derived from extending 
our internal sphere of action and possession. 
Ask any man of cultivated mind when he en¬ 
joyed true happiness ? He will answer—In the 
glorious age of youthful developement, when 
every day unfolded to his mind new worlds, 
and new spheres of thought. The older we 
grow, the rarer are these opportunities of happi¬ 
ness. Worldly knowledge has its visible limits ; 
and is not the old man blessed only in fixing 
his thoughts beyond them ? 

XC. 

The distinction between men of ordinary and 
gifted minds is this :—the former are only happy 
when they forget themselves, the latter only when 
they contemplate themselves; the former when 
they lose, the latter when they possess them¬ 
selves completely. 

xci. 

Betake thyself with thy morbid wavering 
spirit—with thy doubts and fears—to society. 
A chance word will often, like a flash of light¬ 
ning, clear up the most appalling darkness. 


190 


PASSAGES FEOM 


XCIL 

We are often the least indulgent to those who 
are nearest and dearest to us. The same holds 
good with regard to them. Consider this well 
and frequently. It is an excellent prophylactic. 
My object is to give the mind a healthy and 
true direction; to develope and emancipate it by 
my observations; to render this little work a 
means of imparting wholesome and exciting 
vigour to the mind. 

XCIIL 

It would be pedantic and irrelevant if I were 
to point out every individual thing which the 
will can effect in the every day occurrences and 
actions of life. 

XCIY. 

Medical experience abundantly proves that 
anger is capable of increasing the bilious secre¬ 
tion, or altering its quality; that fright acts on 
the nerves distributed to the heart; that fear 
and hatred produce cold, joy, heat; that anxiety 
excites palpitation of the heart; that repugnance 
and disgust occasion fainting. Laughing and 
crying are special provisions of Nature for our 
well-being. The latter often constitutes a crisis 


A DIARY. 


191 


in many complicated affections. Sneezing, yawn¬ 
ing, and sighing are, at least negatively, under 
our control; yet the most remarkable, and, at 
the same time, the most ordinary effects of these 
acts scarcely admit of being expressed in words; 
although any one who will resolutely make the 
attempt will find to his astonishment that all I 
have said of the influence of the will over the 
body is founded on fact 

xcv. 

It has been said that the aspect of what is 
beautiful—as the verdant hue of the meadow, 
or the deep azure of the sky—exerts a beneficial 
influence on the organs of sight. 

XCVI. 

The ancients were unacquainted with hypo- 
' chondriasis or hysteria. Let us rival the Greeks 
in nobleness, and the Romans in vigour:—these 
affections may then likewise become strangers 
to us. 

XCVII. 

Hypochondriasis consists not only in ima¬ 
gining evils which we have not, but in dwelling 
too earnestly on those which we have. 


192 


PASSAGES FROM 


XCVIII. 

Persons labouring under mental affections 
should only record in their note-book consoling 
thoughts wherewith to solace their darker hours.. 
Such a book may prove a friend, at least as 
necessary as the physician. 

xcix. 

In applying mental dietetics to practice, we 
must always take into account the patient's age. 
Every period of life has its peculiar desires and 
impulses. Let the youth follow the impetuous 
aspirations of his mind; here a certain dietetic 
licence, giving full sway for developement, is con¬ 
formable to the design of Nature. In middle 
life, as steadiness of character increases, let habit 
assume the command. In old age, let the same 
law of habit, as the symbol of durability, be 
held sacred. Nature established a beautiful law, 
when she ordained that memory should ever be 
a friendly power, bearing the joys, but not the 
woes, of each epoch to the one which suc¬ 
ceeds it. 

c. 

What is the past? Thyself. But it is nothing 





A DIARY. 


193 


which thou canst retain. It is but the germ 
which it has implanted in thy being, and which 
is gradually developed with it. What is the 
future ? Likewise thyself. It only regards thee, 
in so far as it is thy task to develope thyself to 
it. In every other sense memory and hope are 
the delusions of a dream—and to yield oneself 
to them is but the pampering of feeling. 


ci. 

The way seems ever shorter when we return 
than when we set out. Thus it is with our ad¬ 
vance in years. And this appearance can only 
be avoided by our regarding old age as a path 
which leads onward. 

CII. 

Hufeland considered married life — Kant, 
celibacy—as the more conducive to longevity. 
Both appealed to experience—the one citing ex¬ 
amples of married persons who attained a great 
age, the other referring to the healthy appear¬ 
ance of old bachelors. The solution of the pro¬ 
blem is probably to be sought in the fact, that 
in the one case vital energy is preserved by the 
abstinence of celibacy during the earlier periods 
o 


194 


PASSAGES FKOM 


of life ; while in the other, the enfeebled frame 
is fostered during old age by domestic care. 

cm. 

Life is no dream. It only becomes so by the 
fault of man, and when his mind disobeys the 
summons to awake. 


CIV. 

A soft elegiac disposition, indulged in from 
time to time, exercises a refreshing influence, like 
the aspect of the moon. We should therefore 
endeavour to convert sullen and peevish moods 
into sadness. A few tears may become a healing 
balsam for indurated wounds. 


cv. 

What profound and upright man is ever satis¬ 
fied with himself? Dissatisfaction with oneself 
however undermines our powers. We must 
bring down our duties to such a level as shall 
enable us to fulfil them with certainty. 

CVI. 

Prietsch informs us that he had acquired by 
habit the power of exciting at will such symptoms 


A DIARY. 


195 


as muscce volitantes , ringing in the ears, &c. 
Justinius Kemer can diminish the frequency of 
the pulsations of his heart, whenever he wishes. 
Phthisical and dropsical complaints are often 
the result of mental affections; and hence we 
find that the process of absorption necessary for 
their cure is promoted by activity and a happy 
condition of mind. I have often witnessed this ; 
and so must every practical physician. Hufe- 
land's advice to regulate the daily excretions at 
will is well known and judicious. I would also 
add the following counsel, though it belongs 
rather to physical dietetics. While engaged in 
reading or writing, acts during which we are 
apt to hold in the breath without being con¬ 
scious of it, we should frequently make deep 
inspirations, rise from the table and take a few 
turns across the room. When occupied with 
any matter requiring close attention, we should 
close the eyes every now and then for a few 
minutes. The physician will understand the 
reasons for this advice; and the non-professional 
reader will do well to follow it. 

evil. # 

The descriptions of their sufferings which 
o 2 


196 


PASSAGES FROM 


hypochondriacs give with so much accuracy are 
merely expressions of a general condition, only 
felt with undue acuteness, in consequence of the 
debility and extreme irritability of mind and 
body under which the individual labours. 

CTVTIL 

I have written much about the power of voli¬ 
tion ; but in mental affections, where compul¬ 
sion only causes friction, the power of not 
willing is the one we should cultivate. We 
should abandon ourselves to resignation, form no 
plans, and look on the future in no other light 
than in that of hope. 


CIX. 

It is a curious fact that vague impressions 
generally act with greater certainty than definite 
ones. Thus we awake from sleep at some hour 
determined upon the day before, &c., yet he 
whose clearly defined purposes are strongest, is 
in the best bodily and mental condition. 


cx. 

Kant has justly remarked that activity of the 
imagination is a mental motion conducive to 



A DIARY. 


197 


health. The special activity of the understanding 
is an exhausting action; while pure contemplation 
converts the mind into a mass of stagnant water, 
from whose surface objects are accurately re¬ 
flected, but which gradually passes into a state 
of putrefaction. 

CXI. 

With equal truth has he pointed out the in¬ 
jurious influence of midnight vigils. The ima¬ 
gination, most active at that period, stimulates 
the nervous system too highly. 

CXII. 

Lichtenberg—the most delicate delineator of 
mental conditions—the Columbus of hypochon¬ 
driasis—has bequeathed to us some very useful 
hints. “We often lie down in such unnatural 
positions, that we experience considerable pain 
from pressure ; but the uneasiness caused by this 
pain is slight, because we are conscious that we 
can relieve it at will.” He invents the most 
appropriate names for hypochondriasis—“patho¬ 
logical egoism,” “pusillanimity.” “My body 
is the only part of the universe which my 
thoughts can alter; in every other place the 
order of things remains unaffected by my 


198 


PASSAGES FROM 


fancies.” Again he says—“In 1789, I laboured 
under nervous disorder; when I placed my fingers 
in my ears I felt much better, because I could 
then fancy that the singing which distressed me 
was artificially produced.” 

The hypochondriac who can imbibe poison 
from everything he touches, would do well to 
derive consolation from these remarks. 

cxm. 

Medical men are often affected with an invo¬ 
luntary species of hypochondriasis. This latter, 
as I have before observed, is a microscope with 
which we detect the minutest and otherwise 
invisible ailments of the body. But medical 
men necessarily have this microscope in their 
knowledge of disease, ' which reveals all the 
possible causes, complications, and results of 
every malady. 

cxiv. 

If it be true, as wise men say, that enjoyment 
and forgetfulness of self, form one and the same 
art; they must also be the same as that art 
which teaches us to concentrate our strivings on 
some all-engrossing object. 


A DIARY. 


199 


CXY. 

When we analyze the moment of enjoyment 
we find that, like all other human conditions, 
it is of a twofold nature—forgetfulness of self, 
and the fullest possession of self—a heightened 
existence and an emancipation from existence 
—a contradiction, like man himself, yet no 
contradiction; for that from which we free our¬ 
selves is the chains, and that which we feel 
heightened is the freedom of life. 

CXVI. 

“ How can I will, dear doctor, since the power 
to will is the very one in which I am deficient V* 

“ When the remedy you require, dear patient, 
is yourself, what can I prescribe but yourself?” 

cxvn. 

We are weary of the world. If this expres¬ 
sion mean that we have felt the deficiencies of 
this life, the sentiment should act as a stimulus 
on us, and excite us to supply these deficiencies 
by developing the action of our faculties. 

Let all who yield to the feeling bear this in 
mind. 


200 


PASSAGES FROM 


CXVIII. 

He who thinks himself inwardly diseased 
becomes hypochondriacally unhappy; while he 
who pronounces himself healthy through mere 
levity and defiance, may become unhappy by 
neglect. The right course lies between these 
two extremes. We should regard ourselves as 
valetudinarians, for that we all are, and live in 
a cautious manner, content with our condition. 

CXIX. 

The impulse towards a sanative mental ac¬ 
tivity should, in many instances, where we have 
no business to think of sorrow, emanate from 
others; who, so far, act as our physicians. It 
would be too much to require the impulse from 
the sufferer himself. Yet, on the other hand, 
who knows a man's disease as well as himself ? 
Or who feels so well the favourable moment for 
administering a remedy ? Let the patient, then, 
take council with himself, and see what can be 
done. 

cxx. 

Life may be considered and regulated in two 
ways; and this holds good for mental dietetics 


A DIAKY. 


201 


as well as for every other form of human effort. 
We may either consider ourselves as a central 
point, and endeavour to maintain life against the 
influence of external agents, seeking to increase 
our powers by the development of character— 
a mode which may be termed the subjective or 
moral (Kant). 

Or, we may abandon ourselves freely to the 
world and endeavour to assimilate ourselves to 
external things, considering and treating our¬ 
selves as a portion of the universal whole—a 
mode which we may term the objective or poetic 
(Goethe). 

The single and normal character of Nature 
make these opposite methods tend to the same 
object; even as the poles are attracted towards 
each other. 

For the individual who will but rightly de- 
velope the subjective in himself, will promote 
the grand aim of the universal whole , whose 
parts are all subjectively related to it; and he 
who faithfully reflects the objects around him, 
will learn to understand his own nature and so 
regain individuality by this sacrifice of self. 

Either method may be followed with advan¬ 
tage ; but each is suited to a special character, 


202 



PASSAGES FROM A DIARY. 

like the special mode of thought pertaining to 
the individual. 

This remark will explain any apparent con¬ 
tradiction in the counsels which I have offered 
during the course of this work. Their object is 
to aid and solace all according to their several 
necessities. 

CXXI. 

To every man is prescribed a special path in 
life by which he is to attain the general goal. 
My nature prompts me to view things from a 
moral point; and this tendency has perhaps 
pervaded my remarks more largely than their 
nature may seem to require. The only question, 
however, is, What are our necessities l 


FINIS. 


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